


Sugar Daddy

by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Chris is 32/Seb is 20 and still in college, Daddy Kink, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Tension, SugarBaby!Seb, SugarDaddy!Chris, internalized age gap issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 91,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is a broke and abandoned college kid trying to scrape up enough money to pay for rent and tuition. When he meets Chris, an accomplished architect who takes him under his wing, he doesn't understand what his friends keep calling him until he looks it up for himself.</p><p>Sugar daddy (n) is a slang term for a man who offers to support a typically younger woman or man after establishing a relationship that is usually sexual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Sugar Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501862) by [VanessaCCC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanessaCCC/pseuds/VanessaCCC)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Sugar Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465731) by [N_Riely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N_Riely/pseuds/N_Riely)



Sebastian doesn’t  _want_  to work his fingers to the bone on shitty pen sketches that he hopes to sell for a few bucks, but the tuition fees from university in his mailbox tell him that he has to.

He doesn’t  _want_  to be out on the corner of Broad Street with his suitcase of sketches and signs offering to take commissions for money, but the fact that his parents opted out of their financial responsibilities a year ago tells him that he has to.

He doesn’t  _want_  to try and attract attention to himself, ripped jeans and holey Converse a startling contrast amongst the sleek pressed suits of the New Yorkers bustling to get to their very important destinations, but the water cut-off and lack of electricity in his apartment at the moment tells him that he has to do it too. Even if he doesn’t want to.

And he really… _really_  doesn’t want to.

“How much?” someone calls out to him, apparently morally swayed by his homemade BROKE ASS COLLEGE KID - PLS HELP ME NOT DIE sign propped up against the open suitcase.

“Ten for regular, twenty for large,” Sebastian drones for what feels like the fifteenth time that day.  He’d write it somewhere, but the prices tend to fluctuate depending on how desperate he is for cash on that given day. Which prompts him to tack on an unabashed: “Also shamelessly accepting donations of any kind.”

The woman glances over the sketches laid in the suitcase before snatching one and tossing a bill into the red Solo cup in front of him.

“Thanks, ma’am,” he says, presenting his best appreciative grin to her, a tiny shred of optimism blooming in his chest.

That is…until a particularly hurried businessman flies quickly through Sebastian’s path not a second later, knocking Sebastian gracelessly onto his ass for a perfect view of his sketches scattering across the sidewalk and into the street.

And oh…the irritation that curls up in his gut is out of this world.

“Yeah don’t worry about me, bro – you’re busy!” he calls out after him as he gets to his feet and brushes his palms against his jeans. “Go home and eat your fuckin’ steak, I’ll just be firing up the stove for some ramen. Oh wait…no I won’t because I don’t have any FUCKING ELECTRICITY YOU FUCKING DICK.”

It draws a lot of attention. He knows it. It’s clear in the way people keep a wide berth around him as they walk by now. It’s clear in how parents are bringing their kids across the street instead of crossing paths with the psycho college kid. It’s clear in the line of concern etched firmly between this man’s brows – the man who must’ve rescued Sebastian’s sketches from the street because he’s carefully brushing dirt off of the white paper and handing them to him with a frown.

“Y’alright?” the man asks, and Sebastian has to take a moment to cool down because  _no_  he’s obviously not fucking alright. But this guy was nice enough to go save his sketches and he actually seems like he cares (and as a side-note, he’s definitely nice to look at for an older-ish dude, but that’s beside the point).

“Fine,” Sebastian kind of grumbles out, taking the papers from him and checking out the damage. One is completely ruined. Three have smudges that he could probably fix over but it’ll be a pain in the ass. “Great…”

The man is squatting down to pick up a discarded one at his feet, his suit jacket billowing in the wind as he does so.  Sebastian catches himself staring before glancing away and doing the same.

“Do you really not have electricity?”

It’s not in that judgey tone that Sebastian’s so used to hearing – that  _wow your life sucks ass what the hell are you even doing with it_ thing – and frankly it throws him off.

So he glances up at him, blue meeting blue, and he’s not sure why his voice sounds so fucking  _weak_ when he says: “I really don’t have electricity…” but it makes that look of concern come right back on this guy’s face. “Pretty close to no water too.”

And oh, how that concern just fucking explodes into something beautifully horrified. “What? I didn’t think the city could just cut someone’s water off.”

It makes Sebastian laugh – a wry, cynical huff of a chuckle. “Oh trust me, they can.” He has experience. He knows.

“And how do you—… I mean…living without that shit can’t be easy.”

Sebastian’s smile disappears, fading from the corners of his mouth as he glances back down at his sketches. If only this guy knew.  _Really_  knew. But judging by the cut of his suit and the watch on his wrist and the privileged air that he seems to carry around with him, it’s doubtful that he’s spent even a single night out of sorts.

“Sorry…” his voice pulls Sebastian back from that place inside his head where he can’t help but linger sometimes. “Didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sure the last thing you need is some idiot like me coming up to you and assuming shit about your life.”

Sebastian watches him carefully, swallowing the lump that sneaks up in his throat. When he’s certain he can pull off speaking without sounding like a whiny baby, he clears his throat and says plainly: “I get by.”

There’s only one more sketch still left on the ground, and Sebastian scoops it up before crouching to tuck them all away in his suitcase, ready for another crack at it tomorrow.  The buckles shut with a tight snap, and when Sebastian straightens himself to start his journey back home, those blue eyes are on him again.

“Listen, I was actually on my way to lunch. Did you maybe wanna come?”

His brows are furrowing in the middle again like he might be concerned about something, but Sebastian is too caught up in the current proposition to notice.

“Huh?” It’s a really smooth thing to say. Even gets the guy to laugh.

“You look like you could use a burger,” he explains, smile small and playful as he nods toward the suitcase in Sebastian’s hand. “Or would you rather go home and have uncooked ramen?”

Sebastian glances around them, some weird stray thought in his mind making him wonder if he’s on some kinda hidden camera show or something. “I uh…don’t go out to eat a lot,” he mumbles, but what he’s hoping comes across clear is  _I have zero money to be dicking around and spending on burgers_.

And the man must  _get_  that – must speak his fucked up little language – because he waves it off and says: “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s how Sebastian finds himself in a restaurant a few blocks over, ripped skinny jeans and holey Converse covered by the white tablecloth draped way too elegantly for a place that serves fucking burgers and fries.

But…it’s New York, so… (Which brings Sebastian to his next beef with the situation. )

_Thirteen dollars_ for a burger?  _Thirteen fucking dollars_? Shit, it better dance on his plate and suck him off under the table for thirteen fucking dollars.

And this guy – Chris, he had told him on the walk over – Chris is discreetly glancing up at him from the other side of the table – probably has been ever since Sebastian opened the menu and that really quiet  _Jesus Christ_  slipped out under his breath when he saw the prices.

“We’re not worrying about it, right?” Chris reminds him gently, eyebrows rising as he speaks.

But that’s not enough for Sebastian.  He needs concrete words.  A statement that he can hear and trust and— “I don’t—… Maybe I can just—“

“I’ve got it covered.  Just get something that sounds good.”

And that’s… That’s pretty damn concrete. “…okay…” He eyes the menu again, a sour mixture of guilt and selfish excitement swirling in his stomach. “Are you sure—“

“Sebastian,” he says, and it sounds so startlingly good in his voice that Sebastian has to look up at him to ground himself. “If you don’t pick something, I’ll pick something for you.” There’s a telling authority in his words, but they’re softened by the smile they’re spoken through. “And I don’t think you want that.”

Their eyes are fixed on each other, the rest of the people in the restaurant floating by on a different plane entirely. Then Chris takes a sip of his water and Sebastian blinks and everything is normal again, the menu suddenly heavy in his hands.

He orders a bacon avocado cheeseburger and nearly orgasms in his seat from how good it is (but it’s still not worth thirteen dollars, thanks).  He tries not to scarf it all down in five seconds – tries to put across at least  _some_  level of decent sanity as Chris chomps away on the other side of the table, seemingly pleased with the outcome.

He’s just finishing his last fry when Chris eyes his empty plate and says: “Want something else?”

And Sebastian thinks he could cry because no, he doesn’t want anything else, but Jesus Christ is this guy some sort of saint or something? What the hell did Sebastian even do to deserve this?

“No thanks,” he answers as politely as possible, tearing at the napkin in his lap under the table. “This is really way more than…like…” and why is talking so fucking difficult all of the sudden? Is it because Sebastian’s always been shit at knowing how to properly show his gratitude in situations like this? Is it because when he gets help, it’s usually from Mackie or Chace and not some random dude he just met? Is it because Chris is probably the handsomest fuckin’ thing Seb’s ever laid his eyes on in all his twenty years of living, and now he’s watching Seb from across the table like a gift from God and it kind of stirs something in his gut?

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. But Chris is making a point to nonchalantly pay the bill now, which means the eye contact is gone and Sebastian has momentarily regained control of his brain enough to stop shredding the napkin in his lap like a fucking hamster.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Chris asks after clicking the pen shut and handing the server the bill. “Anything important?”

Sebastian stalls, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…homework,” he finally answers, flicking the napkin shreds onto the floor before placing the intact remains delicately on the table. “I have to go to the library. For the computers.” His answer prompts a flash of slight confusion on Chris’s face, so he figures he should elaborate. “Graphic design class. Don’t exactly have my own laptop to do projects on, so…library…”

It’s a stroke of luck, really, that Sebastian’s apartment is so close to both the Art and Design building on campus  _and_  the city library, because he doesn’t have a car and God knows Mackie gets sick of driving him around everywhere.

“The computers at the library have the program you need on them?” Chris asks, pulling Sebastian yet again from his thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“Illustrator?”

“Yep.”

“Are they Macs?” Sebastian must make some sort of face, because Chris suddenly seems like he feels the need to explain himself. “I’m just figuring… The Hyatt over here has Macs.”

Sebastian blinks…feels his brow furrowing… The Hyatt. That’s a fucking hotel. “Uh…”

A swirl of suspicion takes anchor inside him.

“Well it’d be easier for you to work and then sleep somewhere with electricity, right?” Chris explains with a nonchalance that contrasts startlingly with the slowly forming pit in Seb’s stomach.

“…yeah…” he answers slowly, trying to gauge where this is going. “But…” Now would be a really great time to get some words out. “Do you—are you saying you wanna pay for a hotel room for me?”

His tone must sound as stunned as Sebastian feels, because Chris does this little chuckle/eye roll thing that screams embarrassment. “I know,” he hums. “I know it’s weird, right? I just… I can’t sit here and listen to the kind of shit you go through and then send you home to an apartment without electricity.”

Sebastian stares at him. Dumbfounded. “Yeah you can. People do it every day.”

This makes Chris nod, a hitch in his momentum. “Well…” he’s quiet now, eyes scanning over the tablecloth before meeting with Sebastian’s again, “They may be able to, but I can’t.”

And Sebastian doesn’t really know what to do with that – how to cope with those eyes on him – so he just stares back and picks at his fingernail under the table until he hears him say:

“Is that okay?” with a tiny smile that lights his soul, “If I do that for you?”

And it feels like something warm and thick like lava is seeping out into his veins – an affection that he doesn’t deserve but is getting either way.

“Y-…” how is he supposed to handle this without sounding like he can’t fathom that it’s actually happening? “Yeah… I mean—… You don’t have to. But if you want to…”

“I want to,” Chris reassures with a calming grin. “I do.”

And that’s how Sebastian is not only fed a surprise meal, but also finds himself standing with his suitcase of sketches in the lobby of the Hyatt, holey Converse a laughable contrast against the marble floors beneath him that are so shiny that he can see his face as he glances down.

Chris is over by the check-in desk, speaking smoothly and confidently as he pulls his wallet out of his dark suit jacket. And as exciting as it is, there’s something about it all that’s just too shady for Sebastian to accept. Because he doesn’t even know this guy. And this guy doesn’t know him. And Sebastian sings his sob story for a couple of minutes and all of the sudden he’s getting a meal and a room for nothing in return? As much as he wants to believe that there are good, honest people out there, he’s starting to call bullshit. There’s _got_ to be something this guy wants, and Sebastian’s pretty sure he knows what it is.

“Alright, here we go.”

Sebastian snaps out of it in time to see Chris walking towards him, tucking his wallet back into his jacket and nodding for Sebastian to follow him to the elevator bank.

The entire ride up to the – Sebastian glances up…9th floor – is silent except for his pulse in his ears, climbing heavily with them until the doors slide open and Chris is leading him down the hall.

Each step brings with it a different level of confusing emotion that Sebastian doesn’t know what to do with. If this is actually happening – if he’s making it up to Chris the only way he can – well…Sebastian figures that it isn’t  _totally_ the end of the world. Because he’s been with guys before. He’s sucked enough of them off to know what he’s doing. And Chris is far far  _far_  from unattractive. So he supposes blowing him for food and a place to stay isn’t exactly a chore. Hell, he’d probably do it without getting anything in return if he asked him to. It’s just a little…daunting…

“Alright, I went a little overboard and held the room for a week,” Chris says once they stop in front of door 943. “Figured whatever needs to be sorted out can’t be sorted out in one night, right?”

It releases another wave of warmth in Sebastian’s chest, leaving him to stand there with his mouth open. “Are you fucking with me?”

Chris laughs – an amused chuckle that cuts through the quiet hallway as he holds out the room’s keycard for Sebastian to take. “Nope. Not fucking with you.”

Sebastian stares at the card, too many thoughts running through his head at once. Then he slowly reaches out to take it, fingers wrapping around the plastic before glancing up at Chris one last time – like maybe he’s on that hidden camera show after all.

But Chris just holds his gaze, half of his mouth curling up in a lopsided grin. So he takes the keycard, staring down at it before slowly sliding it through the reader and opening the door.

It’s like a punch to the stomach – the gigantic bed stacked with pillows, the windows that line the far wall and look out onto the city, the fucking  _electricity_. It all soaks into Sebastian’s heart like a heavy hand and it doesn’t let go, pulling at him, and suddenly that lump is back in his throat.

He swallows.  _Don’t cry._ Bites his bottom lip.  _Don’t cry._  But it’s going to be the first time in almost a year that he isn’t falling asleep in his shithole of an apartment, wondering how he’s going to scrape up enough money for rent and hoping to God that the lock on his door holds up for another night and—  _Don’t fucking cry._

“Is it okay?”

Sebastian runs a sleeve over his eyes, sniffling quietly before turning around and trying his best to act like he didn’t just listen to his own advice.

But Chris sees it – can see the redness in his eyes and the way he’s still biting his bottom lip to hold it all back. “Shit…what’s—… Is it too much?”

Sebastian swallows again – wants to tell him to shut the fuck up because yes of _course_ it’s too fucking much but it’s also the kindest thing that anyone’s ever done for him. But he just shakes his head, a little harder than necessary probably, and walks back over to where Chris is leaning up against the open door. “No, this is fucking crazy. You don’t haveta—…” The lump in his throat is coming back again but he swallows it down. “Thank you. Seriously.”

He knows he’s straddling the line between being grateful and gushing, but Chris doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his smile is back in full force, and it’s enough to remind Sebastian that he still needs to thank him.

“Um, did you want—…” he supposes he should have planned this before just launching into it headfirst, but Chris is still leaning against the doorframe, seeming like he doesn’t want to step over any boundaries. “Do you wanna come in and…I can…?”

He doesn’t sound nearly as confident as he had hoped, and it’s made worse by the abrupt look of confusion and concern that flashes across Chris’s face. “Oh. Uh…”

Sebastian watches him – watches how his brows knit together in silent unease – watches how suddenly  _clear_  it is that he’s not on the same page. At all. And now Sebastian feels so incredibly stupid that he has to bite his lip again, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Wow, uh—“

“What’s your number?” Chris cuts him off, not moving from his spot but pulling his phone out and tapping some buttons on it. “So I can check in on you tomorrow.”

Sebastian’s thankful for the distraction, even if it means he has a whole new thing to be embarrassed about now. “Don’t uh…don’t have one.”

Chris glances up at him, “You don’t have a phone?”

Sebastian shakes his head, not sure what else he can offer as an explanation. Phones are expensive. Even the shitty ones.

“Okay, no problem,” Chris says, tucking his own back into his pocket before one of those disarmingly fine smiles appears against his lips again. “I’ll just come around here at some point – make sure you’re still breathing.”

The thought of seeing Chris again is enough to light Sebastian right back up, whatever it was in his head that said he’d pay and run disappearing from view. “Really?”

It pulls a laugh from the older man, eyes shining. “Yes really.” Then he’s checking his watch and glancing back up at Sebastian. “Gotta head out now, though. And you’ve got homework to do, right?”

Sebastian nods, glancing around to see where he dropped his suitcase in his hazy zone-out from first seeing the room. “I do. Got a wild Saturday night ahead of me.”

His sarcasm soothes over any remaining awkwardness between them, making it much easier for him to accept it when Chris nods, says, “Alright. See you tomorrow, then,” and then slips out the door with a grin.

It makes it  _easier_ …but it doesn’t make it perfect.

“Wait!” Sebastian calls after him, bounding forward and through the door before it can even shut. It’s stupid and it’s needy and he doesn’t even really know this guy but he plows towards him and gloms onto him anyway, wrapping his arms around those broad, sturdy shoulders and burying his face in his chest and _somehow_ …it feels like home.

There’s a moment where nothing happens – where Seb’s about 99% sure that Chris knows how totally weird he’s being, but then those strong arms wrap around him and hold him tight, large hands fanning out over Sebastian’s back, and Sebastian has to let his eyes flutter shut and just forget about how weird it is because it feels so good – feels like this is where he’s supposed to be – feels like as long as he’s with Chris, the whole fucking world could go to shit but he’d be alright – feels like – “Thank you…” Seb mumbles against his chest, body relaxed and heart rate somehow going a thousand miles a second and lulling to a steady pace at the same time.

And Chris breathes out slowly – he can feel it – and then says: “You’re welcome.”

And at that moment, it doesn’t matter that Seb doesn’t have any electricity in his apartment.

It doesn’t matter that he has to figure out how he’s going to pay tuition for next month.

Doesn’t matter that:

“…did you just lock yourself out of the room?”

“Yep.”

…because right now Sebastian knows that this is what he needs to hang onto. This is what will help him get through.

A week from now, he’ll realize just how true that is.


	2. Chapter 2

Working in the small computer lab at the Hyatt is different. It’s not the end computer at the library where Sebastian curls up against the wall and has a mental breakdown because he can’t get the sizing of his font the right way without fucking something else up in the design that’s due tomorrow. It’s better.

Sleeping on the queen-size bed in 943 is different too. It’s not his futon with the thin mattress in his apartment that makes a noise every time he moves and leaves impressions of the springs on his skin when he wakes up. It’s better.

It’s  _so_  much better, in fact, that he passes out from 10:30 all the way to the point when there’s a loud knocking on the door and he startles, confused with where he is until yesterday’s memories filter back into his mind.        

Getting up to go answer the door is a struggle with how fucking  _comfortable_ everything about this bed is, but Sebastian rises from his cocoon of blankets and trudges over to the door, opening it while running a hand through his unruly hair.

It’s Chris. Bright and bubbly. Dark long-sleeve with the sleeves rolled up instead of a suit today. Sebastian wonders if he’s still dreaming.

“Oh,” comes Chris’s voice through the silence. “You know it’s almost 1:00, right?”

Sebastian lets his hand drop before leaning against the door frame, eyelids feeling heavy. “Mhm.” (He didn’t. He didn’t know it was almost 1:00.)

Chris seems a touch flustered, something making his smile a bit too tight as he seems to do his best to keep his eyes on Sebastian’s face. “Good night, then?”

“Mhm. Great night.”

“Great. That’s great.”

“Mm.”

“Hungry?”

Sebastian’s stomach growls on cue, causing him to lay his hand over it out of instinct. And that’s…that’s when he realizes why Chris is acting the way he’s acting. Seb’s still in his goddamn underwear. “Ah fuck…” he mumbles, too sleepy to launch into an embarrassed panic as he glances down at the dark fabric of his briefs. “Pants…”

He doesn’t realize he’s closed the door and left Chris to stand awkwardly outside until he’s wiggling into his jeans and pulling them over his ass.  He quickly slides his shirt on and then goes back to the door, running both hands through his hair and taking a deep breath before saying: “…’kay, what?”

And Chris looks like he doesn’t know if he should be laughing or annoyed, stuck between a smile and narrowed eyes. He takes a moment before shaking it off and continuing. “Hungry? I take it you’ve been sleeping and therefore haven’t eaten anything.”

“You’d be right,” Sebastian nods, eyes closing as he remembers the beauty of that queen-sized bed. “I should go home and get food.”

“You could,” Chris says slowly, “Or we could eat real food on the way back and _then_  you can get what you need.”

Sebastian takes a second, eyes opening enough to connect with those pretty blue ones. More? He’s willing to pay for  _more_  shit for him? “Are you saying I don’t have real food at my apartment?”

“Well judging by the fact that you haven’t had electricity for God knows how long, I’d say what hasn’t gone bad by now isn’t worth eating anyway.”

He’s very confident in his assumptions, which is a little bit freaky because he’s absolutely right.  The dollar Jack pizzas and ice tea have probably gone shitty by now. Which means he’s got…peanut butter. And bread. And ramen that he can’t eat without his stove.

“You sure?” he asks skeptically, still confused by the prospect of having someone be decent without wanting anything in return.

But Chris just nods, tucking his hands into his pockets and motioning for them to get a move on down the hallway. “C’mon.”

* * *

 

Turns out, omelets are a lot better than bread and peanut better. Like…a hell of a lot better. And Chris sits there and listens to all the bullshit that makes Seb _Seb_  because he says he wants to – wants to know. Wants to know about how Seb’s finally a senior in the Art and Design Program at the local community college. Wants to know about how Chace and Mackie are in the program too, but aren’t nearly as fucking helpless as Sebastian is. Wants to know about where the hell his parents are and why they aren’t taking care of him or at least in his life a little bit – but Sebastian doesn’t feel like last one’s a conversation to have over brunch, so he shrugs and shakes his head and mumbles a noncommittal: “It’s just bullshit,” before stuffing his face with a piece of bacon.

Chris drives him back to his apartment and Sebastian feels the shame setting in as soon as they turn onto his block. Because this is where all the shitty apartments are. Everyone knows that. And now Chris knows that. And that’s when Sebastian realizes that he has a nagging need to impress him, and pulling up to his piece of shit apartment complex is not how to do it.

“Need any help?” Chris asks, but all Sebastian can hear is ‘ _Do you want me to come in and see how poorly you live?’_

So Sebastian quickly waves the question off and hops out of the car before Chris can get any bright ideas and follow him or something.

He’s lucky it’s a clear day because the sun shining through the windows gives him just enough light to see where he’s going, shoving clothes and schoolwork and his toothbrush and deodorant and everything into a duffle-bag. He doesn’t even want to check the fridge, for fear of what will be waiting for him, so he side-steps around the kitchen and gives the apartment one last scan before locking the door behind him.

Chris is flicking through something on his phone when Sebastian gets back in, stashing his bag at his feet and pulling the seat belt over himself as he glances over.

“Good?”

“Mhm,” Seb hums, silently praying that they can just get the hell out of here already.

Thankfully, they do, Chris’s car standing out like a fucking diamond in a pile of shit as he drives them out of the neighborhood. Sebastian takes a moment to mentally question himself about the merits of that comparison, but there isn’t much time before Chris is speaking again.

“Plans? Can I drop you off somewhere?”

After a quick rundown of what this particular Sunday has in store for him, Sebastian decides on a very concrete: “You could bring me back to Broad Street. Gotta get another day of groveling in.”

It’s a joke (kind of – he really  _does_  have to grovel), but Chris doesn’t seem very amused. On the contrary, he’s got quite the disconcerted scowl going on when Sebastian glances over.

“There’s gotta be a better way…” Chris frowns, and if Sebastian didn’t know any better, he might think he’s disappointed.

“Yeah well…” he can’t help the attitude that springs up, “A college kid’s gotta eat. No groveling, no dinner.”

Chris is silent then – thinking as he turns the corner a little sharper than necessary. “What if…” he starts, but then stops himself and taps his thumb against the steering wheel.

Sebastian watches him silently, wondering where this sudden tension came from. He’s about to speak his mind when Chris starts up again.

“If we ate together, how much less would you have to try and sell your sketches?”

His tone is firm, calculated.

And it’s not helping the confused little ball of energy spreading through Sebastian’s chest again as he asks: “Like…ate together every day?”

“Whenever we could,” Chris doesn’t seem to be picking up on Seb’s apprehension. “As much as possible.”

“I don’t—…” Sebastian’s eyes scan over the buildings out the window like they’ll give him some sort of answer. But it’s not estimate-able. It doesn’t work like that. “I’m not…I have no idea.”

And that doesn’t seem to be the answer that Chris wants to hear, because his lips are forming a thin line, pressed together tightly.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” Sebastian finds himself nearly snapping, the need to defend himself springing up out of nowhere. “I’m not your problem or something.”

“You’re not a problem. I don’t like the idea of you having to fend for yourself all the time.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian says even though he knows it’s 100% not true. Most days he’s making it up as he goes, tiptoeing around bullshit and sneaking in right under the wire. But Chris doesn’t need to know that – doesn’t need to know just how fucked he really is. “I don’t fucking like it when people pity me.”

Chris frowns, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I don’t pity you.”

But now Seb’s riled up – resentful and angry and fucking  _scared_ , “Everyone pities me. You’re not some magical knight in shining armor that doesn’t look at me like some sorta charity case – don’t fucking flatter yourself.”

He knows he shouldn’t be saying it. Knows he’s got a real good thing going here if this guy seriously wants to help him pay for shit. Knows this guy is the one positive thing that’s happened to him in a long time. But he’s tired and confused and still fucking scared and he doesn’t know how to deal with all of it at once so he flicks at the lock on his door and opens it as the car rolls to a stop at a red light.

“Sebastian,” Chris huffs, his head falling back against the headrest in aggravation, but Seb’s already grabbed his duffel bag and is ducking out of the car.

He moves quickly, not sure if he’s running from the situation or running from the feeling that’s been welling up in his chest ever since Chris had taken him for lunch. The feeling that’s starting to branch out over his heart and further still. The terrifying feeling of being totally hooked on someone so quickly – over the course of a single fucking day. It’s not normal and it’s making him do stupid things and it’s scaring the hell out of him. So he keeps walking, picking up speed when he hears a car door slam behind him.

“Shit…”

“Sebastian.”

Chris isn’t yelling - or even angry, it sounds – his voice is just a step louder than it usually is. But it doesn’t make that confused panic disappear any quicker.

“Hey. Sebastian. Take a second, will you?”

People are probably looking – wondering why this full grown man is chasing after a kid with a duffle bag – and that’s exactly why when Sebastian feels the hand wrap around his wrist, it pulls him to the side and into an alley between the stores.

Chris doesn’t push him against the wall, but Sebastian backs up on instinct quickly enough to meet the brick, eyes flashing up to his immediately.

“What the hell?” Chris is quick to speak, like Sebastian might run off again at any second.

And he just might, especially with the way his heart is soaring through his chest like this. “I’m sorry,” he babbles, all irritation long gone and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry I—… I panicked.”

“Why, though?” Chris’s eyes are roaming over Sebastian’s body – like he’s checking for something – checking to make sure he’s okay. “What’d I— Do you want me to back off?”

“No,” Sebastian spits out – feels it from within his very soul. “I’m just not used to…” he doesn’t even know how to phrase it. “You’ve been nicer to me in one day than anyone’s been in the past year. And I don’t…I don’t get it.”

Chris watches him, eyebrows furrowing in a concern that shouldn’t be there given how short a time they’ve known each other. Like this matters. Like _Sebastian_ matters. But he doesn’t say anything, just stands there like he might be just as lost as Sebastian is. And something about that scares him even more.

And there’s just no other way of saying it. “You freak me out.”

It lingers between them for a moment, Chris glancing down at his shoes. “I don’t mean to.”

“Well you do,” Sebastian nearly huffs, feeling drained from his emotions going every which way at breakneck speed. It’s fucking tiring. Then he tips his head down, his feelings deciding to zero in on that annoying needy pull again, making him huff one more time and then ask very quietly: “Can I hug you?”

If his head wasn’t tipped down, he would see the glint of surprised fondness that flashes in Chris’s eyes before he reaches out, a hand resting on Sebastian’s arm to gently pull him in. But he’s looking everywhere but the man in front of him, letting his eyes close and chest well up with warmth as he drops his bag on the ground and lets himself be held. Because it feels good. Because he wants it. Because—

“Please don’t go to Broad Street today.” Chris’s chest hums against Sebastian’s face as he speaks, low and unintimidating.

And Sebastian isn’t sure he could defy that request even if he wanted to. Not with the way Chris’s got his arms draped around him so snugly – securely. Like he’s got him no matter what. “Take me wherever you’re going.”

* * *

 

 _Wherever you’re going_  turns out to be a coffee shop a few streets over, barely busy for a Sunday afternoon.

They camp out at a table in the corner, Chris sipping some sort of weird expensive coffee thing as he slides a blueberry muffin across the table, closer and closer to Sebastian, who had said before that he isn’t hungry but somehow the muffin got bought regardless and is now nearly in his lap.

Sebastian eyes it, glancing up at Chris (who is too caught up in whatever the newspaper in his hands has to say to notice), before returning to his work. Because Chris is letting him use his laptop, you see – had slid it across the table much like the muffin now. And who is Sebastian to deny free wifi?

He minimizes the Illustrator program to check Facebook – one of the only solid means of communication he has with people since he doesn’t have a phone. If they’re not popping up at Sebastian’s apartment unannounced, Mackie and Chace are blowing up his messenger on a constant – all manner of ‘ _im picking you up at 8 hope youre ready’_  and ‘ _WHERE ARE YOU’_  and the occasional  _‘im at the store do you need anything like maybe somethin besides hot pockets’_.

Right now, it’s Chace who’s noticing that Sebastian’s online – probably has some sort of notification hooked up on the phone app that goes off when he signs on or some shit.

_dude where the hell are you_

Sebastian doesn’t even have a chance to answer before another message comes in right away.

_mackie and i came by at like fuckin 3 last night and you werent there. wtf is up with that_

Visions of soft mattresses and warm blankets and pillows that your head sink into flood Sebastian’s mind. God damn that was a good sleep. But he can’t tell Chace that. Not without a slew of questions. So he goes with a noncommittal:  **i was out. why were you there at 3? you know i hate you guys when im sleeping**

Chace’s answer is immediate.  _out where??? mackie just told me he stopped by and you still arent there. are you in jail. dude dont fuckin tell me youre in jail again_

Sebastian sighs, a little louder than necessary apparently because Chris looks up at him over his newspaper. “Friends being stupid,” he explains, and Chris must get it because he nods and then returns to the paper.

**im not in jail you dick. how would i be talking to you if i was in jail**

There’s a long stretch where Chace doesn’t answer, which means he’s either realizing how stupid that last remark was, or he’s formulating some sort of plan.

_k well im coming over tonight. i dont get this whole vector graphics thing._

Something sour twists in Sebastian’s stomach, the thought of going back to his apartment when he’s got the room Chris paid for making him feel sick. There’s no way in hell that’s happening. Especially because Chace is going to bitch and moan about the work and then end up passing out on the floor and there’ll be no way to sneak back to the hotel.

 **i cant**  he types with the righteous fury of a college kid who doesn’t want to give up a queen-sized bed and probably more free food.  **ask mackie**

_youre better at it than mackie tho_

**i cant help you tonight im busy**

_with what dude youre never busy_

Sebastian groans, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes. Jesus Christ, take the fucking hint, Chace.

“Something I can help with?” Chris asks from across the table, but all Sebastian can do is let out another groan of frustration. Because Chris  _is_ the problem. Sort of.

“Trying to figure out how to tell a friend to fuck off without telling him why,” he sighs, clicking through the conversation to see where he could’ve been more adamant. “He wants to meet me at my apartment tonight, but there’s no way I’m going back there when you’ve gone through the trouble of booking a room for me.”

Chris lets his newspaper fall onto the table, that look of understanding very clear on his face again. “And I take it you don’t wanna tell him about the random stranger who booked that room?”

Sebastian draws his bottom lip in with his teeth, not sure how to come across as _not_ an ass. “I just—… they’re super protective of me. And they’d probably give me a lot of shit if they knew you were doing this for me.”

“Understandable,” Chris nods, not seeming insulted in the slightest. “So what’re you going to do?”

“I dunno…” Sebastian mumbles, scrolling through the messages once more before deciding to close out of Facebook and deal with Chace’s wrath later. “Just be chill about it, I guess.”

“Well alright,” Chris tacks on, lifting his paper to continue reading, not yet too enthralled in the article to tack on a playful: “Know what helps being chill?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’m not eating the muffin.”

* * *

 

He does. He does end up eating the muffin.

* * *

 

Going back to the real world on Monday is a rough transition. Chris picks him up from the hotel and drives him to campus, dropping him off behind the Art and Design building just in case Chace and Mackie are lurking somewhere and happen to see.

Sitting through class is such a drag that Sebastian finds himself zoning out so completely that he doesn’t even hear Mackie lean over and whisper his usual sass about their professor. He’s too distracted – gone from the current space and somewhere else entirely – somewhere where there are amused blue eyes and tight protecting hugs and a sense of constant excitement because Sebastian has no idea what to do with this and that’s kind of exciting, right?

It carries on for the next few days, this constant disconnect that probably shouldn’t be but  _is_  regardless. Seb hopes Mackie and Chace don’t notice.

They do.

“Okay seriously, though. Where’ve you been, man?”

They’re currently unwinding after a particularly stressful class in the tiny cafeteria in the basement of the Art and Design building, and Mackie’s got a stare fixed on him that simply won’t quit.

Sebastian pulls his sleeves down over his hands. “Jesus, I’m not home for a couple days and it’s like the world is fucking ending.”

“It’s been a week, Seb,” Chace tags in, tone calculatedly worried. “We’ve tried to be cool about it but we don’t know where you’re at and it’s bothering us.”

“It’s  _bullshit_  is what it is,” Mackie corrects, “We’re supposed to have your back, but we can’t do that if we don’t know where the hell you are.”

Sebastian shoves his hands in his pockets, unsure of how to even approach this. The plan was to not tell them about Chris. Ever. But now he’s cornered without any better options. And he’s always been shit at lying on the spot. So…he guesses…

“I’m at a hotel.” He knows he can’t leave it at that – that the questions are going to start pouring in here soon – so he adds on: “It’s being paid for…so…”

Both Mackie’s and Chace’s eyebrows rise to their hairlines at record speed, paired with a very suspicious “What?” and “Come again?”

And now Sebastian has to backpedal. “It’s fine. He’s really nice and seems like he kno—“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Mackie interrupts, hands coming out to stop Sebastian as he leans forward. “Who’s ‘he’?”

And Jesus…Seb knew this was gonna be a pain in the ass. “It’s  _fine_. His name is Chris and he saw me trying to sell my shit and he’s just helping me out for a little bit okay? Jesus.”

But it’s not okay, not judging by the look still plastered all over Mackie’s face. “Wait. Wait so— Some random dude from off the street is paying for shit for you?”

Sebastian bristles at the accusation. “He’s not some random dude-“

“What’s his last name?”

And…oh.  “I’m…not sure—”

“What’s he do for a living?”

“…I dunno.”

“How old is he?”

Sebastian stalls, the words he doesn’t even know refusing to come out of his mouth. And now he’s just sitting here, at a loss and not exactly doing himself any favors. “Mackie—“

But Mackie’s already hitting Chace on the arm, “Man  _seriously_? You’re not gonna back me up on this?”

“How can I when you won’t shut the fuck up?” Chace grumbles, casting a glare his way. It causes Mackie to shake his head, mumbling something under his breath as Chace turns toward Sebastian, those eyes that are usually lit with mischief now glazed over with apprehension. “But really… This doesn’t sound like that stellar of an idea, Seb.”

Sebastian frowns, glancing out the window. “Yeah, I know. But I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh yeah?” Mackie counters. “You’ve done this before? Had dudes pay for expensive shit for you? How’d that go?”

Sebastian sighs, picking his backpack up off the table and standing. “See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell you guys.” He knew this shit would happen – knew it deep in his bones.

“We just wanna make sure you’re not fucking yourself over,” Chace explains, already on Seb’s heels as he pushes out of the building and into the cool air. “I mean, what does this guy want from you?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian snaps, slinging his bag over his shoulder and moving into a brisk walk. “He doesn’t want anything.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I tried to blow him the first night and he clearly wasn’t into it.”

Chace stops in his tracks, reaching out to pull Sebastian to a halt too. “Wait, _what_? Really?”

“Yeah really,” Sebastian huffs, pulling his arm away and continuing his trek down the sidewalk. It’s a memory he’d rather not relive. Especially with others present. “He doesn’t want anything. He just likes it when I’m happy.”

Sebastian winces – realizes how weird that sounds – but Chace has started following him again and doesn’t comment on it.

It’s not until they reach the end of the street that Chace finally says, with all seriousness this time: “Just watch out, okay?”

* * *

 

“My friends think you’re up to some shit,” Sebastian mumbles, head leaned against the window as Chris drives him to the hotel.

Chris doesn’t say anything for a long time, or maybe it’s not long but Sebastian is just so tired that it feels like it. Then he takes a deep breath and says: “Do _you_  think I’m up to some shit?”

And Sebastian just tips his head over to side-eye him. “ _Are_  you up to some shit?”

“No,” he answers calmly, turning them down the street that the Hyatt is on.

“Then no,” Sebastian hums, letting his eyes close.

And that’s that. That’s the conversation.

Chris drops him off and Sebastian crashes in the queen-sized bed and dreams about a flood of blueberry muffins pouring out of the elevator and down the hallway like The Shining.

* * *

 

Thursday night, Sebastian finds himself at the coffee shop again, tapping away on Chris’s laptop as Chris fills out some sort of form-looking thing across the table. Sebastian wants to say what Mackie and Chace had said a few days ago hasn’t been milling around in his head, but he’d be lying to himself. And it’d…it’d be okay to just ask some basic questions, right? Get a feel for who this guy actually is if he’s going to keep paying for shit for him?

“How old are you?”

Chris’s pen drags to a stop, a beat passing before those blue eyes are glancing up at him. “Is this a ‘Chace-and-Mackie’ thing?”

Well okay…apparently Sebastian talks about them more than he realizes. “Maybe.”

The side of Chris’s mouth crooks up into a lopsided smile. “Thirty-two.”

O—oh… Holy shit.

“I take it by your face that that’s a lot older than you thought.”

His tone is light – joking – and it helps cool down that little spike of alarm that sparks through Seb’s heart. “I didn’t—…I mean the beard kind of…gives it away…” It’s poetry. And it has Chris laughing on the other side of the table.

“Watch it, I like my beard.”

“I do too,” Sebastian agrees before he can stop himself. And that was a pretty dumb thing to say even though yeah, let’s be serious here…he really does dig the beard.

“And you’re what?” Chris asks smoothly, still smiling, “Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty, actually…” Sebastian mutters, trying not to read into the little spike of surprise that seems to go through Chris as well. “Late August birthday.”

“Gotchya.”

“Mhm.”

“Any more questions Chace-and-Mackie want answered?”

 _‘Oh, a shit ton_ ,’ Sebastian thinks to himself. But his thoughts are much too fucking  _everywhere_  at the moment to remember any of them. Too ‘ _that’s twelve years’_  and  _‘jesus how did this happen’_ and  _‘I’m gonna get so much shit for this if they ever find out’_. So he just shakes his head and sips on the smoothie Chris bought him and busies himself with dicking around on the internet while Chris fills out the rest of the forms in front of him.

On a plus side, those forms help Sebastian a lot. Because those forms have Chris’s last name on them. Which Sebastian will use for further research later.

“Hey, listen,” Chris says when enough people have filtered out of the café that their little nook is mostly empty. And it sounds important with the way his voice drops down low like that, so Sebastian closes the laptop before he continues. “I noticed that you don’t have a way to talk to people without Facebook and that’s…that’s pretty shitty. And I was thinking to myself…what if you need something? I mean, you’re in college. You should have a fucking phone, you know?”

Sebastian just sits there, eyebrows furrowing together more and more as Chris speaks. Because what’s… He didn’t…

And then Chris is digging around in a bag and pulling something out – something small and thin and rectangular and –

“W—… Chris…”

Chris slides it over towards him on the table. Like the muffin. But it’s not anything like the muffin. Because it’s—

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It’s a phone. It’s a goddamn phone and Chris is just sliding it over like it’s no big deal and Sebastian doesn’t want to touch it because this is probably a joke because  _why—_

“The payment plan and everything is under my name so you don’t have to worry,” Chris says calmly, his words dragging together in Sebastian’s mind.

Because this is unreal. This is… This is fucking— “Mine?”

It comes out weak. Nervous. Like if Sebastian actually believes it to be true for even one second, it’ll be taken away.

But Chris just smiles - a fond little grin that casts that warmth inside Sebastian’s chest again. “Yeah. It’s yours. If you want it.”

Sebastian’s mouth hangs open, ready for words, but nothing comes out except for an exasperated: “Holy shit… Are you sure?”

“Always,” Chris reassures. “You don’t have to keep asking, okay?”

And there’s something about that – that confidence there – that makes Sebastian believe him. Even if the whole thing is still entirely too surreal.

* * *

 

 _“Friday nights call for celebration,”_  Mackie had once told Seb. But limited cash means limited booze. So basically, he meant:  _“Friday nights call for me or Chace picking you up for a party that’s already stocked so we don’t have to pay anything.”_

Which is why they’re at the house of one of the girls from the same program, already buzzed on cheap beer while Sebastian and Chace work their way through beer pong game after beer pong game.

Sebastian is really the star player – they both know that – but Chace holds his own and they’ve certainly gotten pretty far considering how their heads are spinning a little.

“Zipper,” the girl across the table says, and Sebastian takes a drink while Chace arranges the remaining cups into the requested line formation.

He doesn’t even realize they’ve been talking about Chris until it’s too late.

“So what’s goin’ on like…you fuckin’ him or…?”

It takes five whole seconds for Sebastian to catch onto who they’re talking about, eyebrows furrowing as he puts his drink back down. “What? No.”

“You  _wanna_  be fuckin’ him?”

A ping-pong ball sails through the air between them, Sebastian’s mouth twisting as he tries to get his thoughts in order. “Jesus,” he mutters.

“Does that mean yes?”

It’s a thought that makes Seb’s stomach heat up. He knows he should say something concrete like  _no, fuck off_ or  _hell yeah dude_ , but what comes out is: “He’s thirty-two.”

“Who’s thirty-two?”

And now Mackie’s here.

“Seb’s sugar daddy,” Chace explains casually. And Sebastian has officially lost control of the conversation.

“ _Thirty-fucking-two_?” Mackie’s eyes are bugging out of his head.

And it gives Sebastian just enough time to place a steadying hand on Chace’s shoulder and ask: “My  _what_?”

“Sugar daddy,” Chace repeats, catching the last ping pong ball in midair and taking his shot without missing a beat. “He’s buying you stuff right?”

“Not really.” And then right on cue, as if the gods above want Sebastian to suffer, a melodic string of notes sounds from his pocket.

“The fuck was that?” Mackie’s looking Sebastian up and down, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

And when Sebastian pulls his new and precious phone out of his pocket, squinting at it because he still isn’t 100% on how to work it, Mackie and Chace are giving each other the most pointed look ever.

“Homeboy bought you a fuckin’ phone?”

“Sounds like a sugar daddy to me…” Chace comments quietly.

And Sebastian has finally gotten the thing to stop making noise enough to listen. “He’s not my sugar daddy. I don’t even know what the fuck that is. Now will you just shut the fuck up and let me win this game before you start in with more bullshit?”

Mackie holds his hands up in surrender, but the obvious look of  _'I told you fucking so'_  slapped across his face says otherwise.

Sebastian takes the shot and misses.

* * *

 

Things Sebastian never thought he’d use a public computer to search for: the definition of sugar daddy

Things Sebastian is now using a public computer to search for: the definition of sugar daddy

Wikipedia provides him with one short, nerve curling explanation.

 **Sugar daddy**  (n) is a slang term for a man who offers to support a typically younger woman or man after establishing a relationship that is usually sexual.

Other sources note the price and frequency at which gifts are given to their “sugar babies”, and what might be an appropriate act of gratitude in exchange.

And that’s not… That’s not like him and Chris…right?

…right?

On cue, Seb’s phone buzzes.

_Hungry?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :) come chat me up on [tumblr](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

You know that whole “I went a little overboard and held the room for a week…” thing? Yeah, after Saturday night it turns into a “Well I guess one more week won’t hurt, right? We have to get your electricity thing figured out anyway…” thing.  

And when Chris says it, Sebastian chokes on his soda, a hand flying up to cover his mouth. He gives himself a few moments to get his breathing back to normal before addressing Chris’s alarmed look with a shaky: “ _We_?”

And Chris just sits there, eyes shifting with bafflement, before nodding. “Yeah? I mean, you can’t pay for it yourself, can you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why wouldn’t I help you?”

He says it like it’s the most obvious,  _normal_  thing in the entire world. Like Sebastian is important and it’s only customary for Chris to be throwing cash around for him. 

And it’s making Sebastian’s chest feel all loose and warm again. “You’re…you’re gonna pay for my electricity?”

“I’m not sure why this is so surprising for you,” Chris says, smile leveling out into a teasing grin.

And  _really_? Does Sebastian  _really_  have to say it? “Um, because you’ve been dropping money on me left and right and there’s no way I’m ever gonna be able to pay you back?”

Chris makes a little dismissive noise, hand waving the sentiment away. “I don’t want your money.”

“The fuck do you want then?” It slips out. It really really does. And Sebastian instantly feels like a grade-A dick about it.

But it’s true and it’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since he was dumb enough to use the Hyatt computers to look up what the fuck a sugar daddy is. 

Chris doesn’t seem as startled as he probably should be – seems like he’s been waiting for this kind of outburst for quite a while now. So when he just takes a deep breath, that calm smile dancing across his lips as he says: “I want your life to be better than it’s been,” it’s confident and sure and true.

And Sebastian still doesn’t get it.

* * *

 

 

Chris is an architect or some shit – or at least that’s what Google tells him, since that went so fucking swimmingly last time Sebastian tried using it.

He types  _Chris Evans_  into the search bar and is met with about half a shit-ton of Facebook pages that he doesn’t feel like weeding through, a similar amount of Linked-In pages, and one very promising looking chrisevansdesigns.net

When the page loads, it’s fancy as hell and there’re a lot of options to click through like “International Work” and “Industry” and “Current Projects”, but Sebastian is mostly interested in the link that brings him to the profile page, Chris’s face smiling back at him like some sort of fucking gift from God. His hair is all neat and combed back and his beard is nice and he’s wearing that one dark suit that Sebastian is pretty sure he wore on—

“Who’s this fucking guy?”

Fuck fuck  _fuck_  Sebastian’s heart sinks – hand immediately going to click out of the page but it’s too late – Mackie and Chace are already hovering over him, making their bullshit comments and  _fuck_ , Sebastian figures this is what he gets for using the school’s computer lab to look up this kind of shit.

Chace has made himself comfortable in the chair next to him, resting an arm next to the keyboard as he leans in to take a closer look. “Looks fancy.”

Mackie drapes himself over the top of Sebastian’s chair, resting his chin on Sebastian’s head because he knows it annoys him. 

But Sebastian is too busy rubbing a hand over his eyes in dread to care. “No one.”

“Yeah? You’re just lookin’ up random architects for shits and giggles?”

“No,” Sebastian huffs, seriously considering his choice in friendships, “Fuck off, it doesn’t matter.”

He goes to click out of the page for real this time, but because the world likes to fuck him over on a constant, the screen has frozen and they’re stuck looking at Chris’s unfairly gorgeous face. Of course they are.

Mackie is now digging his chin into the top of his head, and it’s enough to finally get on Seb’s nerves, pushing him to flail his arms at him with a glare. “It’s Chris, alright? Fucking happy?”

Chace and Mackie glance at each other before glancing back at the screen.

“Sugar daddy Chris?”

“Jesus Christ…” Sebastian mumbles to himself, sinking as low into his chair as possible.

“It is. It’s sugar daddy Chris,” Mackie declares, but his tone has lost all mockery, instead lulling into an impressed: “ _Damn_.”

And Chace sounds impressed too – a sort of breathy surprise. “Holy  _shit_ , Seb.”

And isn’t that just a total 180 from how they were acting before. 

“Wow, really?” Sebastian grumbles, side-eying them both in annoyance, “So now that you know he’s hot, you’re not gonna give me shit about it?”

“Oh no, we’re still gonna give you plenty of shit about it,” Mackie reassures him, plopping down in the empty seat to his right just as Chace tacks on a vague:

“Guess we just weren’t expecting someone that…” he gestures loosely at Chris’s picture, his voice trailing off at the end.

“The man is  _fine_ ,” Mackie finishes for him when it’s clear that the words simply aren’t coming. “Like  _really_  fine.”

“Yeah no shit,” Sebastian says, but he can’t bring himself to be annoyed about it. Because hell yes Chris is fine. Chris is more than fine. Chris is fucking gorgeous as hell.

“And he picked  _your_  sorry ass?” Mackie smiles, that is until Chace leans over and smacks him, which prompts a very stunned: “What?” 

“Still watch out.” It’s Chace who’s maintaining his position as the voice of reason again, leaning back over to look at Sebastian with  _that look_. “No matter how hot he is.”

And Sebastian supposes that he can deal with that, because it just means that his friends care and don’t want to see him end up in some shit. And really…that’s what friends do…so… “Got it covered.”

* * *

 

 

Except he doesn’t. He doesn’t have it covered.

He doesn’t have it covered because judging by the fact that this is his third glass of wine at dinner, Chris hasn’t had a very good day. He was trying to hide it and smile and be normal but Sebastian could see it in the way his smiles didn’t light up his whole face like usual. A few glasses change that. 

“Bad day doing architect-y stuff?” Sebastian tries, peeking up at him.

Chris glances over to him, eyes narrowing but still lit with a kind of interested amusement that tells Sebastian that he’s been caught. “How do you know what I do?”

Because oh yeah…technically he’s not supposed to know that. But the cat’s out of the bag now, so: “I may have…Googled you…”

It sounds as creepy as it felt doing it. But Chris is smiling, eyes now shimmering with their usual delight (and also aided by those three glasses of wine). “That’s cute,” he smiles, keeping that eye-contact and making Seb’s heart take off. “In a kind of weird way.”

_That’s cute. That’s CUTE_. Sebastian has to calm himself because this is neither the time nor the place to collapse into a fit of hysterics over something as stupid as  _that’s cute_. “I like to know where my income is coming from,” he says, aiming for a joke instead.

It’s a hit. Which is awesome because he’s actually really proud of it.

In fact, Chris laughs a lot throughout the rest of the dinner. A hell of a lot. Like…so much that by the end of it when he goes to stand up, he gets this really surprised look on his face that quickly morphs into one of concern.

“Whoa. Jesus…” he mutters to himself, placing a hand on the table to steady himself. “That’s not right.”

It takes Sebastian a good ten seconds to catch on, offering a slow and cautious: “…are you drunk?”

Chris frowns. Like it’s just not possible. Like this simply can’t be happening. “Shouldn’t be after three glasses of wine.”

But… “…you had five.”

“What?  _When_?”

And that’s how Sebastian learns how to quickly take the reins for the evening on the fly. Learns how to make sure that Chris’s car is going to be okay in the restaurant parking lot until morning. Learns how to convince Chris that:

“Just stay at my room in the hotel.”

“But that’d be so annoying for you.”

“You’re not driving home. The hotel is across the street.”

“I know but I can just get my own room.”

“Chris, Jesus Christ, just stay with me.”

It’s all a very good idea at the time. And Sebastian even feels really accomplished and adult-like with figuring it all out so quickly. 

But that was then and this is now. This is Chris now milling around in his hotel room, steps a little sloppy and completely adorable. This is Chris shrugging out of his suit jacket, muscles flexing tauntingly underneath his pressed white button up as he rolls the sleeves up over his forearms. This is Sebastian absolutely 100% not having it covered. Because this is Chris looking like every wet dream he’s ever had wrapped up into one and it’s just not fucking fair.

That little fridge. Yes. The fridge with the stupidly expensive booze in it. That’s exactly what Sebastian needs right now. And it’s right where he goes the first chance he gets. 

Chris doesn’t notice the first drink – the one that Sebastian just barely makes into one of those coffee mugs provided for  _breakfast_  because he’s just so classy like that. But it goes down pretty smooth – surprisingly smooth – smooth enough for another. 

That’s when Chris notices. 

“My nerves are fuckin’ everywhere right now,” Sebastian explains, thankful that his voice doesn’t waver from how fast his heart is beating.

Chris looks concerned. Worried. “Why?” 

He actually asks  _why_  and it makes Sebastian want to laugh until he cries because ‘ _Oh you know, because you’re here in my room and you’re hot as hell and you’re driving me up the goddamn wall.’_  “Normal dumb anxiety shit,” he says instead, bringing the mug to his lips and taking a generous drink so Chris doesn’t feel the need to prompt him any further.

He doesn’t. Not until after another generously portioned helping. But by then, Sebastian’s floating on a nice high that has his pulse soaring, but for a different reason entirely. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Chris notes calmly, but there’s a teasing smile there that’s unmistakable. “You’re just a baby.” 

Seb flusters, his face heating up at a record speed. “I’m not a baby,” he pouts – _pouts_  – and that doesn’t really do anything for him in ways of making his point, so he sets his mug down on the table and punches at Chris’s arm. “Prove my strength right fuckin’ now,” he slurs a little, going for another sloppy punch, but this time Chris has caught on.

He catches his wrist gently enough for Seb to pull away and try again, all while he stands there and laughs, eyes shimmering. “You’re twenty,” he muses, catching almost every single hit like a pro but always giving Seb the opportunity for another attempt. “You’re a baby.” 

And Sebastian knows he can’t really argue with that because yeah  _okay_ , twenty is probably a baby to someone who’s thirty-two, but he’s not going down without a fight – without leaving a couple reminders. 

His chance comes in the form of Chris letting his guard down, leaving plenty of room for Sebastian to crack his knuckles against his chest probably a bit harder than necessary, but he’s riled up and there’s adrenaline and testosterone and a whole bunch of other shit and—

“Ah, Jesus,” Chris hisses through a smile, brows furrowing at the surprise pain as he grabs at both of Sebastian’s wrists and reels him in with a light-hearted: “C’mere.”

Sebastian stumbles into him, proud of his hit but not too proud to notice how the space between them has lessened significantly. And now Chris is staring down at him, both wrists still captured, and it takes everything in Sebastian’s control not to melt into the touch. 

He tilts his face up, eyes narrowing cockily as they meet Chris’s. He can feel his breath ghost against his mouth, the sound of his own pulse in his ears, the sensation of Chris’s hands moving against his wrists. And at that moment, everything just fucking stops.

“M’not a baby,” he speaks lowly, eyes slowly trailing from those blue ones down to Chris’s lips – parted and gorgeous and ready… “The things I could do for you…”

It lingers…an open invitation…an  _offer_ … 

Chris doesn’t look away – doesn’t do anything but stand there, his grip on Sebastian’s wrists refusing to falter. And suddenly things get very very  _real._

It’s a sudden zeroing in that makes Sebastian’s head spin – Chris’s face so close, their chests touching – it’s the closest they’ve been with each other and it sets Sebastian’s nerves sky-high. Too high. Way way way too high.

“I have to take a piss.”

Chris blinks, clearly not hearing what he was expecting.

And then Seb is pulling back, finding relief in the space now growing between them as he makes his way across the room and locks himself in the bathroom.

He steadies himself on the door, eyes falling shut. 

Holy shit.

Okay. Everything’s okay.

He doesn’t have to piss. Not at all. But that moment just snuck up on him and they were just way too close to not freak out and—

Sebastian lets out the breath he doesn’t realize he’s holding – lets his lungs fill and brain start to function semi-normally again. This is okay. It’s fine. It’s  _good_ , actually. It’s good because Chris  _knows_  now. Knows that Sebastian is totally ready and willing to fuck around. Knows that he may be younger by quite a bit but he still has enough confidence to know what he wants. 

Sebastian laughs to himself, shaking his head.  _Confidence_. Yeah, that was definitely confidence he just showed out there – ducking out at the last second to go hide in the bathroom. But he can fix this – can make this whole sugar daddy/sugar baby thing work for them. Fuck, he could be the best fucking sugar baby ever for Chris if he just takes the second to calm down.

So that’s what he does – takes a second – calms down – closes his eyes and steadies his breathing and lassos his heart rate back down to a more suitable level. It’s a mental pep talk. A silent confidence booster. And it’s enough to pat himself on the back and push him back out the door and into the real world.

The real world is where he finds Chris, tie loosened and thrown across the chair in the corner. He’s got about three buttons of his shirt undone when he notices that Sebastian is back.

“Trying to get a little more comfortable. Long day,” he hums peacefully. “Hope that’s okay.”

But Sebastian doesn’t answer – probably couldn’t even if he wanted to. Instead, he pushes forward and walks towards him until the space between them is almost as tight as it was before. Chris is warm and solid against him and Sebastian reaches up, fingers brushing against Chris’s where the fourth button remains stubbornly unmovable.

He slowly slips it through the hole, Chris’s hands dropping as Seb unhurriedly makes his way to the next button, and the next, and the next, until Chris’s shirt is swaying open, lines of muscle too beautiful to touch peeking through the white fabric.

An accepting little hum sounds from the older man - like he hadn’t really been planning on undoing  _all_  the buttons but he supposes this is okay - then Sebastian can feel the way those eyes are settling on him as he drops his fingers from the last shirt button to the one on Chris’s dress pants. There’s apprehension there. Uncertainty.

“Wanna get comfortable, don’t you?” Sebastian smirks, voice like liquid. 

And he glances up just in time to see Chris swallowing roughly, just as Seb kneels down in front of him and hooks his fingers in the waistline of Chris’s dress pants and pulls them down over his hips.

“Whoa.” And suddenly Chris’s hands are coming up, hovering over Sebastian’s shoulders but not yet touching. “What’s—…”

His pupils are blown wide and his breathing has picked up a bit and at that moment, Sebastian swears he’d do anything for this man.

He leans in, not breaking that eye contact as he hovers his mouth over the obvious bulge in Chris’s briefs. “I wanna show you how grateful I am.” His breath fans over the dark fabric, his pulse heavy in his ears as Chris swallows again, lips parting as Sebastian reaches up and hooks his fingers into the waistline of Chris’s briefs and—

“Wait—”

Those sturdy hands settle down over Sebastian now – one on his shoulder and the other on one of the hands pulling at the fabric – and it all happens so quickly that Sebastian has to take a second – has to look up and make sure that Chris really said that and—

He did. He did really say that. And he’s got his hands steady on both of Sebastian’s shoulders now. And…

“I don’t think…” he breathes out, voice scratchy as he stares down at Sebastian with this unreadable look that’s more than a little unsettling. “This isn’t a good idea.”

Sebastian blinks…speechless, his high crashing down around him. He wants to ask why. Wants to be a gigantic brat about it. But: “I want to, though,” he says, a last shot at making sure that Chris  _knows_ that and doesn’t think he’s just doing it to pay him back. “I—you want to too, don’t you?” 

Chris’s eyes search his face for a moment, and then he’s murmuring: “C’mere…” tugging at Sebastian’s hands and smoothly pulling him up off his knees. 

Sebastian stands as directed, stepping between Chris’s legs when the older man pulls up his pants and sits on the edge of the bed so they can be eye level. The mature thing to do right now would be to let go of his hands, but Sebastian doesn’t want to be mature. He wants fucking answers.

“What’d I do?”

“Sebastian…” Chris sighs, looking down at their hands.

But it’s not enough. “Do you not want me?”

“Seb, hang on, okay?” He’s looking back at him again, tone soft but authoritative. “Just take a second.”

“I am.” Sebastian’s pretty sure he’s at that ‘brat’ stage now, and it’s entirely possible that those drinks used to loosen him up are not helping. “I don’t get it.”

And now Chris is sighing again, glancing around the room with a tired gaze. It’s frustrating and it’s confusing and most of all, it’s opening up this hole in Sebastian’s chest. 

Especially when Chris says: “I’m gonna go get my own room for the night.”

“What?” the alarm is immediate. “You don’t have to do that.”

But Chris already seems to have made up his mind, easing Sebastian away and standing up. “No, it was stupid of me to be here in the first place. The way that I am.”

“It wasn’t stupid.” Sebastian is reaching out, fingers brushing against the fabric of Chris’s open dress shirt and latching on. “You don’t have to leave. I won’t— I’ll stop.” He’s starting to hear the panic in his own voice – slow and creeping but there just the same. 

Chris must hear it too, because he’s slowing to a stop and glancing back at him. “I just… _really_  don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

_‘Please stay.’_  Sebastian almost slips – almost says it. But then he’s straightening out and drawing his hand back and saying, as calmly as possible: “I’ll behave,” like it’s a matter of him not jumping Chris’s bones or something.

When Chris lets his eyes fall shut, a tired chuckle leaving him, Sebastian’s still not sure if it’s the case or not.

“… _we’ll_  behave?” he tries again, because why not use the opportunity to test out the waters?

There’s a long moment where Chris just stands there, posture relaxed and head tilted lazily to the side as he watches Sebastian – makes decisions in his head – and Sebastian might be hazy but he definitely sees the way that gaze floats down his body and then back up again for a split second, like maybe Seb won’t notice. It lights that spark in his chest again, bright and airy against the rolling cloud of disappointment.

“You get why I stopped you, right?”

Sebastian nods quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s still not entirely sure. But it sounds like one of those questions where if you answer right, you get the good thing that comes after. And Sebastian  _really_  wants the good thing that comes after. “Yep.”

There’s one more moment where Chris examines him, like he’s trying to see if Sebastian is serious or not, but he must be too tired to be as thorough as usual because then he cracks his neck and just plops back down onto the edge of the bed with a deep sigh. 

“Are you mad at me?” Sebastian can’t reel the words back into his mouth quickly enough, knowing full well how childish the question is, regardless of the condition it’s asked under.

Chris frowns, “Does it  _seem_  like I’m mad at you?” And it’s not even rhetorical, he sounds like he’s honestly caught off guard by Sebastian’s concern.

But Sebastian doesn’t know how to answer that without sounding even more immature, so he just nods. And it’s enough for Chris to sigh again, this time reaching up to hold one of Seb’s hands in both of his as he speaks.

“Sorry… You just really—we can’t—…” he stops himself, closing his eyes as a mental cut-off so he can start over again with a clean, confident: “No, Sebastian. I’m not mad at you.” 

It’s the answer Sebastian wants to hear, so he doesn’t get why it doesn’t sit well enough with him. But he smiles anyway - soft and sweet - and nods like he understands before crawling over onto the other side of the bed.

He does his best to get comfortable despite the fact that he is very _un_ comfortable - jeans rubbing up against the hard-on that won’t go away even though the moment has passed and clearly  _nothing_ is going to be happening between him and Chris tonight.

And Chris doesn’t seem to be doing much better either, on his back now and staring up at the ceiling with eyes that don’t even  _look_  tired.

It’s…just an uncomfortable situation overall.

“Maybe…” Sebastian starts after an unknown amount of time has passed, voice dragging out into the darkness, “…we could take our pants off…but still be chill about it…”

It’s out there in the open, going awkwardly untouched for a few unbearably long moments before Chris is finally responding.

“Yeah, that’d probably be fine.”

He says it with such casualness that Sebastian is 100% sure Chris doesn’t understand what he’s agreeing to until those dress pants are sliding down over his thighs again and are being tossed over the back of the nearby chair, Chris’s lower half still concealed underneath the pristine white bedsheets.

Sebastian follows suit - skinny jeans crumpled up and flung somewhere on the ground next to the bed.

The next seconds drag by like hours.

“Alright,” Chris says then, like he’s made his mind up about something. And then he leans over to reach up and shut the light off on the nightstand, plunging them both into a room full of darkness that at least hides how hard Sebastian still is.

Seb rally-dreams about the filthiest shit imaginable that night. 

And every single one of them is about Chris.

* * *

 

 

Apparently sleeping in the same bed for the night is not as big of a deal for Chris as it is for Sebastian, because he just goes along his merry way the next morning, showering and going down to the bakery across the street to bring back coffee before Sebastian even has the sense to raise his messy-haired head from the pillow, blinking lazily into the sunshine.

But the coffee is nice and Chris even got him a blueberry muffin and Sebastian supposes that things could be a lot worse - awkward and weird and ‘so do we talk about the fact that I tried to give you head for the second time last night, or nah?’

But it’s none of those things. It’s casual. Relaxed. And it follows them all the way up to the point where Chris drives them over to Sebastian’s shithole apartment so he can get more clothes for the weekend.

That’s when things get a little hairy.

Because that’s when Sebastian is too busy stuffing pairs of boxers into his duffel bag to notice the way his front door swings open a little, a head sticking in to gently remind him: “Hey, don’t forget—“

And it’s got Sebastian’s body whipping around, eyes wide and stomach lurching. Because Chris isn’t supposed to see this hell hole - isn’t supposed to  _see_  how awfully he’s been living for the past couple years.

“Jesus Christ…” Chris frowns, serious concern leaving that little crease on his forehead again as he lets the door open the rest of the way and glances around at the pitiful state of the apartment - the peeling wallpaper - the lack of electricity - the pieces of floor that are missing over by the stove that doesn’t even function anymore - and Sebastian is stumbling over to him, arms already out to push him back out the door.

“Shit—don’t—,” but Chris isn’t moving, grabbing firmly at Sebastian’s wrists as Sebastian does his damnedest to get him out. “Fuck, you weren’t supposed to—”

“ _This_ is where you’ve been living?” It’s not pity that fires Chris’s tone. It’s disbelief. Disturbance. Something a little like determination. “Jesus Christ, Seb.”

But Sebastian is backpedaling - feeling the pang of embarrassed panic that floods up from his stomach and into his chest. “No, it’s okay. When the electricity comes back it’s a lot bet—”

“You need to pack more stuff.” And now Chris is letting go of Sebastian’s wrists, too busy pulling out his phone and tapping insistently on it to fend him off anymore. “Anything you’ll need for the long run.”

Sebastian swallows, brow furrowing and torn between trying to see what Chris is doing and what the fuck he’s  _talking_ about and - “ _What?_  You’re not paying for a hotel for ‘the long run’.”

And it’s either the weird mixture of shame and embarrassment and confusion or the mania of it all, but Sebastian’s heart sinks all the way to the cracked floorboards when Chris says it - strong and sure and determined.

“You’re not staying at the hotel. You’re staying with me.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Staying with Chris is a  _big fucking deal_. It’s a  _big fucking deal_  because it means he’s walking around on hardwood floors and leaning on marble countertops and eating things off china that looks like it costs around the same amount he was paying for rent. It means Chris gives him his own room - high, almost-cathedral ceilings and soft white carpet and a bed that puts the queen at the hotel to shame. It means Sebastian is with Chris almost constantly now - trying to make himself disappear into the small part of the large L-shaped couch as Chris goes about his normal day and consistently shakes his head at him with a smile and a nice little: “Stop trying to blend in, kid. Relax. It’s good that you’re here.”

It’s a  _big fucking deal_.

And it’s only been a few hours.

 

* * *

“Hey Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“How does your— How do you turn your shower on? It’s like a fuckin’—…Jesus Christ.”

“Turn the handle.”

“I am.”

“Turn it harder.”

“I— …I am, nothing’s happening.”

“Did you pull that tab thing up first?”

“…tab thing…”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah I pulled the tab thing.”

“Then it should be working.”

“… …uhhh-”

“Hold on.”

The knock at the bathroom door has Sebastian lurching for a towel and throwing it around his waist as quickly as possible before shouting what he hopes is a totally composed, “Yeah.”

Chris barrels through the door like a man on a mission, zeroing in on the faucet in the shower.

“Sometimes it sticks,” he explains, completely oblivious to how Sebastian edges away from him, towel clutched firmly in his grasp. “Just gotta…”

There’s a grunt and then the promising pitter patter of the shower’s spray hitting against the tile, relief washing over the tiny bubble of nerves in Sebastian’s stomach.

“There we go,” Chris grins, ducking back from the water to rub his palms against his pants.

And Sebastian’s not sure if he desperately wants Chris to leave or if he wants to ask him to stay when he smiles back, “Thanks,” and there’s this split-second moment where Chris’s gaze slips from Seb’s face, just low enough to prompt something to register in his brain and push him to keep walking, eyes dragging back in front of him as he heads back out the door with a polite:

“Mhm.”

It takes a full five minutes and the hottest manageable temperature for Sebastian to calm down.

So this is how it’s going to be.

 

* * *

 

 

The second thing that Sebastian notices within the first day is that Chris listens to Coldplay. 

Like a lot.

Like he’s played it in the car a few times when he’s driven Seb around, but it’s nothing compared to this.

“Really? Coldplay?” 

Chris is in the kitchen doing some sort of adult-ish thing like hydrating or something, but he’s not too busy to glance up at him over the counter with a raised eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Coldplay?”

Sebastian just looks back down at his phone, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nothin’.” 

A particularly chill guitar solo sounds through the speakers and then Chris is speaking again, waving a cucumber in his general direction. “Listen here, just because it’s not Lady Gaga or whatever the hell you crazy kids are listening to these days, it doesn’t mean it’s not good.” 

Sebastian laughs.  _You crazy kids._ “You don’t have to try to sound old, Chris. You already are. And Lady Gaga was like two summers ago, please get with the times.” 

Chris laughs, full and loud and it pulls at Sebastian’s heart so much that he has to glance back up so he can take in the sight of Chris - sweet and amused and eyes dancing as he shakes his head at him. “Put something else on if it’s cramping your style so much.”

“No no…” Sebastian hums, “It’s  _your_  house after all.”

His words fade out just as the song does, another taking its place soon enough. 

Chris is still over in the kitchen chuckling to himself. “That’s right.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first night is beyond comprehension. Sebastian somehow misses Chris’s transition from day clothes into night clothes and to be honest it throws him off.

Because Chris’s night clothes are black mesh gym shorts that come to rest just below his knees and a white t-shirt that Seb would have to guess is about two sizes too small for him. And really, it’s just on this whole other level of hotness that doesn’t compare to the pressed suits and aviators and shiny shoes that he’s used to seeing. 

Because this is not a take-charge-businessman outfit. This is a soft-comfortable-probably-what-Chris-wears-after-sex outfit. And that thought is so much for Seb to wrap his mind around that he honest to God pops a boner right there on the couch and is eternally thankful for the stupid amount of throw pillows that end up doing a great job at nonchalantly hiding his situation.

He doesn’t even know what they’re watching on TV - just knows that he needs to get his dick under control if this whole “staying with Chris” thing is going to work without massive embarrassment on his end. 

“You alright?”

Sebastian feels his heart lurch at the question, but he plays it off with a nonchalant: “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

It’s masterful. Except not  _all the way_ masterful because if he was smart, he never would’ve tacked on that  _why_. Because now that’s an open invitation for Chris to say—

“You’re just really red.” Yep. “Thought maybe you might be running a fever or something.”

And it’s kind of sweet, Sebastian has to admit, that Chris cares that much to actually bring it up. Too bad there’s no explanation to be given besides the fact that Seb’s getting hot and bothered by his goddamn gym shorts. 

So instead of trying to come up with something on the spot, Sebastian just shrugs and waves it off and pulls himself from the couch, doing his best rendition of the traditional  _I Swear I Don’t Have a Hard-On_ walk around the back and yawning out a: “Actually…think I’m gonna nod off if that’s cool.”

Chris makes this affirmative noise from the back of his throat before offering, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

And with that, Sebastian disappears down the hallway (and only makes one wrong door-choice) before walking into the room that is now apparently his for who knows how long.

It’s a strange feeling, seeing a bunch of his stuff unpacked and set up. He’s got his textbooks on the shelf and his clothes in the closet and there’s something about it that makes him feel both nervous and secure at the same time - the idea that he just pretty much fucking  _moved in_ with Chris on a whim. It’s even weirder to think that just last night he fell asleep in the same bed as him at the hotel - high strung and tipsy and hard as a rock —

Sebastian collapses onto the bed, eyes shutting at the sad realization that this’ll mark the second night in a row that he’ll fall asleep in a mess of sexual frustration because of this fucking guy.

Well…

Maybe he could—…nah, that’s weird.

…that’s weird, right?

Sebastian glances at the clock. 10:24.

Hm…

It would only take a minute…

But this isn’t his bed and yes that’s fuckin’ weird.

But.

Sebastian’s dick twitches. Come on.

But fuck…

10:31

Fuck it.

Sebastian pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it beside him before pushing his pants down around his ankles, a tingle of forbidden pleasure creeping up his spine as he takes a breath and then wraps a hand around his dick, moving ever so fucking slowly for fear of God-knows-what happening because of what he’s doing.

But the big bad thing never happens and God doesn’t descend from heaven to smite him for touching himself in someone else’s bed, so he figures he must have the go-ahead, squeezing a little tighter and bringing his rhythm up to speed until he’s riding a fucking beautiful high - that tingly in-between where he can feel the tight curl of his orgasm beginning to pool at the base of his spine. It’s all going so remarkably well, the fact that he’s jerking off in Chris’s guest bed doing nothing to ward off his oncoming release. He’s right there - ready and sweating and bottom lip caught between his teeth when he hears footsteps in the hallway - floorboards creaking under smooth footfalls.

Sebastian panics, his hand stilling on his dick and eyes frantically glued to the door as the sounds travel down the hallway, closer and closer to the guest room. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out subconsciously, voice breaking in its whisper. He shouldn’t be doing this. Look where the fuck he’s at now.

But he’s still right there - just needs a few more strokes to come - but the footsteps are getting louder and louder and then they’re right outside the door and —

…they keep going…don’t even slow down by the room…

Sebastian swallows, eyes still glued to the door and mouth parted as he listens for a sign that he’s home free.

It comes moments later, a door further down the hallway swinging shut with a click and then the softest hint of more creaking floorboards in that room.

Sebastian lets out a long breath, his heart pounding against his chest as he collapses back onto the pillow and closes his eyes, trying to reign in his nerves for a single blessed moment so he can get his shit together and jerk himself off properly.

When he does, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist before he’s tensing and coming all over his chest, mouth dropping open and only a single breathy “ohh” giving him away.

He supposes he should be concerned with the fact that Chris’s surprise cameo not only freaked him the hell out but made his orgasm  _better_ , but he’s too busy basking in the glow of satisfaction that warms his entire body to care.

It’s 10:56 when he finally pulls himself together, wiping his chest with his shirt and inspecting the bedsheets with a fine-toothed comb to make sure everything landed on him.

It did. He’s pretty sure.

He passes out before the numbers on the clock hit 11:00.

* * *

 

 

Sebastian doesn’t make any mention of the fact that he got off in the guest room on the very first night that he’d been taken in. He also doesn’t mention to Mackie and Chace that he’s  _been_  taken in until he realizes that Chace is technically supposed to be picking him up so he can spend the night and they can plow through digital design bullshit together in one massive clusterfuck of an evening.

He must have some sort of panic-stricken look on his face when he realizes it because Chris offers to drop him off at Chace’s instead, or even drop him back at the hotel so it seems like Seb’s still staying there, but Sebastian decides that if they start doing that, it’s going to snowball into a giant disaster in no time. And he needs to tell  _someone_  about it sooner rather than later. And he  _guesses_ it’s better that it’s Chace because he’s known him since grade school and has always been way closer to him than to Mackie.

So when he texts him the address and says bye to Chris before bopping out of the front door and into Chace’s car, the look of careful confusion that’s thrown his way is pretty much expected.

Sebastian knows he’s only got a limited window of opportunity before Chace starts in, so he launches into it immediately, putting his hands up in defense and keeping his voice down, “Okay, listen—”

“You’re fucking  _living_ with this guy?”

Well, that was way shorter than expected - gotta be some sort of record. “Chace, hear me out, okay?” Sebastian says, turning in the passenger seat so he can look at him head-on. Chace  knew as soon as he pulled up - knew exactly who’s flat this is. Because Chace is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. “It just kinda happened. He accidentally saw how shitty my place is and offered for me to stay with him.”

“What happened to the hotel?”

“Well it’d be pretty stupid to keep paying for a room when I can just chill here, ya know?”

Chace is still staring at him - hasn’t stopped since he got in the car (and probably even since he walked out the door). There’s a lot of shit going on in his brain, Sebastian can see that, especially when he kind of tilts his head and sighs. “Seb…”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, the worried tone in his friend’s voice pushing him to continue. “It’s cool, alright? Just…can you not tell Mackie?”

Chace’s brow furrows at that, something like uncertainty flashing in his eyes. “What? Why?”

“He’d be a dick. You know he would.” It kills him to say it, it really does, but they both know that Mackie has been less than stoked about this whole thing, even more so than Chace. And Sebastian just  _really_ isn’t fired up about that particular battle at the moment.

But now Chace is looking down into his lap, his thumb tapping habitually against the side of his thigh. “You know I hate keeping shit from people, Seb.”

“I know,” Sebastian nods. “But think of what we’ve kept between just you and me - all that heavy shit. We’re good at it now.”

Chace keeps his head lowered - contemplating - then he glances up, straight ahead.

“I’ll tell him soon,” Sebastian adds smoothly. “Just not right now.” Then he reaches out, pulling at Chace’s sleeve until he looks at him. “Hey. Please? Can you please wait for me to tell him?”

And it takes a second and another long sigh, but then Chace is nodding, eyes flicking back up to  Sebastian’s. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

It’s a wave of relief that Seb doesn’t know he needs until right now - “Thanks, man…” - and then Chace is putting the car in drive and they’re rolling out of the driveway.

* * *

 

 

Massive Digital Design Clusterfuck Night turns into Like 3-Hour Digital Design Clusterfuck Day because three hours in, the program they’re using online crashes and they get an email from their professor saying that the assignment’s due date has been extended.

So Chace drives Seb back to Chris’s, all stupid jokes and laughter now that the impending doom of their assignment has been lifted for the time being. 

When Sebastian opens the front door — oh by the way, he has a motherfucking key to Chris’s flat, if he didn’t mention that gem of information before — Chris is nowhere to be found.

So he drops his bag by the door and slips his shoes off and glances into the kitchen and down the hallway. “Chris?”

But there’s no sight of him. Not even any Coldplay. And he’s just about to shrug and move on with his day (because Chris is a grown man and is probably out doing grown-man things) when he sees movement from the glass door that opens out onto the balcony.

Sebastian saunters over, opening the door and ducking his head out to announce his presence. “Hey,” he says when he sees Chris, chair leaned up against the wall and feet propped up on the balcony railing, “Just letting you know I’m back. The program fucking tanked on—…”

It’s then that about six things all add up in Sebastian’s brain: the reason why Chris is outside, why he’d started scrambling hazily when he heard Sebastian open the door next to him, the very obvious, very  _strong_ smell beginning to curl up Seb’s nose, why Chris is now sitting up straight in his chair, eyelids heavy as he glances up at him and does a really shit job at hiding what’s in his hand.

“Holy shit, you get high?” 

Sebastian supposes there’s a more graceful way of stating it, but that’s most fucking definitely a joint that Chris is trying to hide as he drops his hand, and isn’t this just the biggest, greatest plot twist in the world right now?

“What—why’re you here?” Chris asks, eyebrows furrowing carefully as he fixes Seb with a hazy stare. “I mean. I’m glad you’re here but I thought you’re—you were staying at Chace’s.”

And oh God Sebastian can’t wipe that shit-eating grin off his face at the state of Chris’s voice - Chris’s fucking speech pattern. “Program’s busted,” he explains. “Project isn’t due for a few more weeks.”

“Ah,” Chris nods, and Seb’s pretty sure he’s trying to play it cool but it looks something like an ostrich realizing how long its neck really is. “That’s a shame.”

“Mm.” Sebastian glances around, rocking on his heels before nodding toward where Chris is still probably thinking he’s doing a killer job hiding the joint. “So how often  _do_  you get high?”

Yeah, he definitely thought he was pulling a fast one, because his face drops as soon as Sebastian says it. “You weren’t supposed to see,” he answers. Like that’s an answer. And then he pulls the blunt back into view and stares down at it like it’s  _it’s_ fault. 

Sebastian huffs a laugh. “I would’ve figured it out sooner or later.”

“S’only every once in a while.”

“I’m sure.”

“Keeps the edge off.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Whatever Sebastian says, it sparks something in Chris, causing him to look up at him with an incredulous and glossy gaze. “You’ve never gotten high before?”

And Sebastian supposes he could understand the assumption that he’s off lighting up every hour on the hour - what with being in the art program and everything - but he just shrugs and chuckles again. “Do I look like someone who could afford a hookup?”

Chris stares at him for a long while, and for a bit Sebastian wonders if he’s trying to formulate an actual answer to that question, but then Chris stares down at the joint in his hand and then holds it up toward him. 

“Oh,” Seb says out loud, honest to God taken aback at the fact that clean-cut suit-and-tie Chris is offering him a smoke.

“Y’don’t have to. Just thought I’d maybe off—”

“No, I mean. Yeah if you’re offering.”

And that’s how Sebastian gets high for the very first time - feels the ashy burn of the smoke at the base of this throat as he wraps his lips around the blunt and breathes it into his lungs. He’d like to say that he only coughs once, but it’s really easy to remember when Chris feels the need to point it out with a fond little “fucking adorable” under his breath every single goddamn time.

But it gets easier. Easier to hold it is his lungs. Easier to purse his lips and blow the smoke out without feeling like he’s out of breath. 

Chris lets him take most of the rest of joint because there wasn’t  _too_ too much left and apparently he’s already at his desired high. Sebastian doesn’t know when to stop. Doesn’t realize that he’s singing until Chris says something about it. Doesn’t stop until Chris literally takes the joint from him because Sebastian’s laughing so much that he’s dropped it twice and Chris says something about “starting a fuckin’ forest fire, damn Seb,” and it’s the funniest thing Seb’s ever heard in his entire goddamn life and he’s laughing so hard that all that’s coming out is a weird little wheeze.

His sides are aching, his lungs warm. And he feels how Chris’s gaze is lingering over him and that makes him feel even warmer. 

“Should’nt’ve let you do that,” Chris mumbles, eyes nearly shut as he stares down at where Sebastian has sat and leaned his back against the railing.

Sebastian rolls his eyes, the chuckle humming against his chest feeling tingly. “Y’don’t haveta shelter me, ya know? M’not a kid, yeah?”

Chris smiles, eyes shutting. “Just a baby…”

Seb hums. “Yeah whatever you say, daddy.”

It lingers there and Seb isn’t even really sure he said it out loud until he tilts his head up and Chris is looking at him, expression calm but curious.

It lasts only a second more before they both lose it - Chris snorting out a ridiculous laugh while Sebastian does his own wheeze-laugh so hard that he doubles over onto the floor.

* * *

 

 

The next three days go by with little to no incidents. Chace texts him on day two to ask if he’s told Mackie yet and Seb has to whip out a quick  _no but i will soon,_ but other than that, things go relatively smoothly.

Sebastian knows how to work the microwave now (seriously, why does there need to be so many steps? All he wants to do is heat up his damn leftovers), and he’s pretty solid on knowing which rooms to stay out of and when because Chris is either working or doing adult-things and Seb’s still kind of in that mindset where he doesn’t want to be that annoying lingering house guest.

Yep, it’s all working out pretty damn well. The only thing that throws Sebastian for a loop is when Chris leaves him alone with the TV while he showers and changes for the night, and this weird female voice starts talking to him halfway through Ghost Adventures.

Sebastian ignores the fact that it scares the crap out of him, instead opting to pick up the remote and push every button that seems like it’d be a reasonable way to get her to stop talking. 

But nothing works, really. And Sebastian is missing the grand reveal of the EVPs and video evidence that the ghost hunters are showing and that just simply won’t do. So he hoists himself up from the couch and makes his way down the hallway.

“Chris,” he half calls out/half whines before positioning himself in the doorway to Chris’s room. “Hey you’re TV’s talking to m—whoa, Jesus—”

Sebastian’s eyes drop to the floor immediately, heat creeping up in his face and an impossibly giddy smile curling the corners of his lips as Chris scrambles to find something to cover himself with. Because there he is, standing stark-ass naked in the middle of his room, apparently caught in the transition between shower and night clothes and  _“stop smiling”_ Sebastian has to tell himself because oh  _man_.

“Shit, sorry,” Seb can hear him fumble, “I thought you were in the living room.”

But Sebastian’s too preoccupied with the vision of Chris’s fucking gorgeous ass that’s now burned into his retinas forever - the sweeping curve of his back - strong and muscly and smooth and holy shit Sebastian needs to  _stop. smiling._

There’s the swish of mesh against skin and then the presence of Chris moving toward him, something Sebastian doesn’t expect when he finally drags his eyes up from the floor again.

“Here, I’ve got it,” Chris says, and then he’s moving past Sebastian in the doorway, a thing of beauty as he moves.

Sebastian is free to grin like a fucking idiot as he trails behind him in the hallway, eyes shamelessly sweeping over the muscles flexing in Chris’s bare back as he moves - the way his shoulders narrow down into the impressive V of his waist - and Seb  _definitely_ knows what that ass looks like now. Fucking perfect, is what it looks like. And everything is made impossibly more interesting as Chris moves because Seb knows he’s free-ballin’ it under those shorts now.

When they reach the living room, Chris plops down onto the couch to fish the remote out from the pile of pillows that Sebastian had thrown it into, Sebastian sitting next to him to help.

“Oh,” Chris explains calmly, eyes scanning the remote before he starts pressing buttons. “Sometimes it likes to suggest things for me.”

“Fancy,” Seb mumbles into his hand, because he’s got his elbow balanced on his knee and his chin propped up in his hand because he just honestly can’t stop smiling like a fool no matter how many times he tells himself not to.

A bunch of screens pop on the TV as Chris finagles his way through menus, mentioning something about how he’s been meaning to turn that feature off anyway. Sebastian nods and strums his fingers against his mouth and glances down to just finally notice the white block-numbers printed on the thigh of Chris’s gym shorts.

81. 

Interesting.

“So is 81 your number on a team or are you trying to subtly broadcast to the world how old you are?” It comes out in a perfect blend of confidence and playfulness - enough to get Chris to glance over at him and then down to his own shorts.

“Both,” he answers smoothly, eyes flickering with the tiniest bit of playfulness too. 

Sebastian chuckles softly, letting his gaze trail from the number back up Chris’s body before asking: “Basketball?”

Chris’s attention is already back to the screen, but he answers with a certain amount of pride nonetheless. “Volleyball, actually.”

And  _oh._   _Volleyball_. Sebastian can’t help but imagine the token volleyball player’s body type - lean but well-muscled and strong in every sense of the word. 

Yeah, that definitely checks out.

“College?” He prompts further, because oh yes, now there are all these nice images floating into his mind of Chris annihilating people on the court with monstrous hits.

Chris pushes a few more buttons. “I played in college, yeah. These are from the current team, though.” 

Sebastian blinks. “Current team?” So Chris is out there doing hot volleyball things and he’s missing out on it? That won’t fucking do. “Where do you play?”

But Chris seems to be done with the whole rapid-fire questioning thing, because he lolls his head over to throw Sebastian an amused but tired look. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sebastian takes that as his cue to stop asking. For now. But oh, he  _will_ worry about it - he’ll fucking worry about it until he gets to see Chris in that uniform. 

“Okay, I’m pretty sure I shut it off. Let me know if it starts doing it again.”

Sebastian nods, noting how Chris lobs the remote into the pile of pillows again, and suddenly Sebastian hears himself blurt out: “Hey, do you wanna watch this with me?” before Chris can get up and leave.

It catches both of them off guard a little, but then Chris is settling back down onto the couch with ease. “Sure. What is it?”

And to be honest, Seb doesn’t even really  _know,_ because Ghost Adventures ended quite some time ago no thanks to The Great Naked Debacle of 2k14. But there’s something inside him that desperately wants Chris to stay - be close - regardless of the fact that he’s still gloriously shirtless and currently going commando. 

So they flip through some channels and settle on a documentary about killer whales and it’s all very nice and homey - very calm and secure and pleasant. It’s several minutes into the birthing-process of the mother whale that Seb takes the time to appreciate the fact that he’s not only  _not_ in his shithole apartment tallying up the day’s sorry excuse for an income right now, but he’s also not alone. He’s got Chris. Whatever Chris…is. He’s got him. And there’s something about that that’s just so incredible that Sebastian has to close his eyes and just breathe - just take a second and fight the urge to rest his head on Chris’s shoulder but also know that it probably wouldn’t be  _too_ big of a deal if he ended up doing it anyway.

And Sebastian’s so…just so fucking thankful. He doesn’t know what the hell he did to deserve this and honestly, he feels kind of special because of it. 

Chris is a saint. An ungodly attractive saint. And all Seb wants is for him to know that he’s thankful. That he’s appreciative. That he’d do anything to show him that.

So he drops his hand down, thin fingers tracing lightly over the white printed numbers on the thigh of Chris’s pants. He feels the muscles tense beneath his touch for a moment before they slowly relax, the sound of Chris letting out a breath sounding through the almost-silence.

Chris keeps his attention toward the screen, the blues and greens of the documentary washing over him as Sebastian presses down a little more, slowly drawing his hand up Chris’s thigh. 

He can feel the strong muscles tense again, Chris clearing his throat but making no attempt to actually keep Sebastian’s hand from moving, and that’s—fuck, it sends a spark up Seb’s spine because he’s not  _stopping_ him.

He pushes forward, his palm dipping down and against the inside of Chris’s thigh - warm and dangerously close and Chris turns his head toward him, lips parted, “Seb—” and Sebastian smoothly rolls his body up and over until he’s in his lap, knees pressed firmly against Chris’s hips so he can rock down against him.

Chris breathes out again, this time long and drawn out and a touch shaky as Sebastian grinds down into his lap. “You don’t hav—”

“I want to,” Sebastian hums, those sparks firing off at the base of his spine again as he slowly ruts against the thick hardness in Chris’s shorts. “Want you to feel good. Want you to know.”

Chris stares up at him, real concern flashing in his eyes as Sebastian grabs his hands and positions them onto his narrow hips. “…are you—”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Seb hums lowly, rocking his hips once, twice, three more times before sliding off of Chris’s lap and onto the floor at his feet. He glances up to where Chris is visibly at odds with whatever is going on in his head, then spreads Chris’s legs and positions himself between them.  “Lemme make you feel good…”

Chris stares down at him, lips still parted, but he doesn’t say anything or push Sebastian away or anything like that, so Sebastian tucks his fingers into the waistband of the shorts and then pulls them down to his feet, a curl of hot arousal blossoming deep in his gut at the sight of Chris’s cock - thick and hard and fucking  _ready_ for him and—

Holy fucking shit, this is happening. 

Sebastian rocks forward, licking at the head before taking the rest in his mouth in one determined swallow. A shaky breath of a moan falls from Chris’s mouth, and if Sebastian wasn’t already painfully hard, that sure as fuck would’ve done it.

He bobs his head at a steady rhythm, one hand wrapping around the base of Chris’s cock and the other reaching up to grab at Chris’s hip, pulling himself closer and deeper and Chris is having a hard time keeping himself from rocking his hips up into him and  _that’s_ enough to light a little spark of pride in Seb’s core - making him doing his damnedest to maintain that level of satisfaction as he hollows his cheeks and glances up at Chris.

“You can look at me, ya know,” he pants after sliding his mouth off with a slick pop. 

Chris swallows roughly, his jaw tensing in the process. But then those blue eyes meet his and Sebastian’s sure he’s never seen something as fucking hot as Chris’s face when he’s getting head - brow furrowed and eyes half-lidded and _fuck_ Seb hopes this is a regular thing because Jesus  _Christ_.

He licks from the base of Chris’s cock all the way up to the head and then wraps his lips around him again, swirling his tongue and getting off on those fucking ridiculous half-moans that Chris seems to be fighting. But Seb doesn’t want him to fight it - wants him to feel fucking  _amazing_  - so he picks up his speed and moans around his cock, knowing full well how good that shit feels.

It must not disappoint, because Chris is grabbing onto the edge of the couch, eyes squeezing shut and mouth dropping open in surprise and then a wrecked: “ _Fuck_ —Seb m’gonna come you haveta—” but Sebastian just hollows his cheeks and moans again and then Chris is  _gone_  - a bitten-off groan as the only other warning before he comes, hot and desperate and Sebastian swallows all of it, preening in the insanely satisfying realization that he just got Chris off.  _He_ did. It goes straight to his pride and his dick and he  _gets off on that shit._

And Sebastian knows right then and there that this is gonna need to be a regular thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: there’s a scene in this chapter where one of the characters receives unwanted attention from someone drunk at a bar. there’s a little bit of minor violence and suggestive dialogue but nothing graphic. but it might ick people out and i don’t want to accidentally trigger anyone, so please be cautious.

It takes three consecutive wearings of Seb’s Grouplove band tee in two weeks for Chris to finally realize that his wardrobe is not exactly in the best shape of its life. 

It takes three “but it’s okay”s for Chris to come to terms that the majority of what’s in the closet is clothing that Seb’s been wearing since high school, simply because it fits, so why would he spend money on buying more?

It takes thirty minutes for Chris to drive their asses down to the nearest clothing store, four “I really don’t need these”s, and one very stern look from the older man to land Sebastian in the dressing room, a stack of dress shirts that he has picked at random only halfway sorted through.

“These look stupid,” he says loudly enough that Chris can hear him outside the individual dressing room’s door. “Who wears these?”

“Let me see,” is Chris’s response. And Sebastian fucking  _knew_  that’s what he was going to say, so he’s already halfway through an eye roll when he opens the door.

Chris looks up from his phone, curiosity seemingly overwhelmed by whatever he must be feeling when he sees Sebastian wrapped up in all his green short-sleeved button down glory.

“Christ…” he mumbles.

And it doesn’t help the little tingle of embarrassment that’s already stirring in Sebastian’s gut. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Did you even look when you were picking things out? Or were you  _that_ stubborn that you just grabbed whatever you saw first?”

“Chris, I don’t need more clothes. I’ve got a whole—”

“You wore your high school gym class shirt to dinner two nights ago.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes as Chris throws him a look. “It was clean. I skipped gym almost every day in high school.”

“That’s not the point.” Chris slips his phone into his back pocket as he stands, heading toward the open dressing room door. “Show me what you picked out.”

Sebastian lets his head roll back, a low groan just barely audible as he trails behind him.

Chris is already sorting through the stack of shirts sitting on the little bench by the mirror, his lips pressed into an unimpressed line. 

“No, I didn’t look at what I was grabbing,” Sebastian finally admits with a huff when Chris holds up a particularly gross paisley pattern scrawled on one of the shirts. “I don’t know what I’m looking for anyway.”

Chris sets the atrocity down and then nods, his voice calm and confident now. “That’s fine. We can find something for you.”

Sebastian fixes him with a stare.

“… _I_ can find something for you,” Chris restates, shaking his head but smiling all the same. “Just stay here - I’ll be back.”

Sebastian makes himself comfortable on the bench as he waits, scrolling through his phone and watching the stupid video of a bearded dragon scaring a cat that Chace sent him at some point -  probably when Sebastian was balls-deep in fancy shirt choices. The video is paired with a short text message:  _arent you stoked i can send you important videos like this again? ;)_

Sebastian startles as the door swings open again, Chris returning with a more reasonable stack of shirts and setting them next to Sebastian.

“I think it was a pretty safe decision to avoid the lavender, right?” he asks with a tiny grin, leaning down to place them on the bench.

Sebastian glances up just in time to see it, his eyes falling on the quirk of his lips as their faces grow closer for a heartbeat. Then he nods, throwing his phone next to him and grabbing the first shirt in the pile as he stands.

When he pulls the horrific green button-up up off his shoulders and tosses it on the ground, Chris clears his throat. “Wow, just gettin’ right down to it, aren’t you?”

“Whatever gets this over quicker,” Sebastian retaliates. He stuffs his head through the collar of the new shirt, hair sticking up every which way when he sees that Chris has turned and is almost through the door. “Might as well stay,” he offers, although it feels weird on his tongue when he says it. “I don’t really feel like dragging my ass out there fifty times to show you each shirt.”

Chris turns, that amused grin already pulling at the corners of his mouth as he meets Sebastian’s gaze in the mirror. “Right. That’d be such a chore for you. God, how do you even survive with me around?”

Sebastian chuckles - can’t help it. “I know. You’re so awful to me.”

And with that, the first shirt is in place - secure across his chest and loose in all the places it should be - and Seb has to admit that  _yeah_ , he does look pretty good.

“I like this one,” he smiles, not too caught up in the slight sweep of vanity to ignore how his heart flitters in his chest when Chris reaches out and starts messing with the collar of the shirt.

He folds it down and makes sure the bottom parts are all even and everything, that crease of concentration evident in his brow as he does so.

Sebastian hums softly. “Honestly, you’re worse than my mom was.”

And it’s enough for Chris’s fingers to stop moving against the fabric for a second, his voice carefully unbiased as he speaks. “Yeah…I guess she should be the one here nagging at you about this.”

Sebastian’s smile slowly drops, too many thoughts flooding into his brain to entertain at once. “That’s not gonna happen,” he mutters.

Chris must sense the sudden 180 that the mood has taken - how Sebastian’s gaze has dropped - how the very atmosphere in the dressing room seems to have turned on its head. He keeps his fingers on the collar of the shirt, waiting a moment before slowly offering: “You know you can talk to me about that if you want, right?”

Sebastian’s heart hurts in his chest. “Yeah, thanks.” But he doesn’t say anything else.

Chris waits one more moment and then nods, hands drawing away as he turns to walk toward the pile of shirts waiting at the bench. He reaches down for one, completely silent, and then:

“She was cheating on my dad.” Sebastian’s voice is tired. Small. “For three years. I thought she was up to some shit but didn’t know what - was too afraid to confront her about it. I dunno if my dad knew but…they’d kinda been out of that whole happy marriage thing for a while anyway so maybe…I dunno…”

Chris sets the shirt down, then slowly makes his way over to Sebastian, eyes watching and concerned.

“Either way, he found out,” Seb continues, worrying at the hem of the shirt Chris picked out for him. “Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. I was at a dorm so I wasn’t around when he left. Actually, I—,” Sebastian chuckles wryly, head shaking and gaze to the floor, “he called me. Told me he was headed out. I thought he meant out of the house. Not out of  _everything._ ”

Chris is in front of him now, reaching out to hold onto one of Sebastian’s hands as he speaks. Sebastian takes it - pulls himself into Chris’s arms - against his chest - speaks into his sweater.

“Mom wanted me to welcome this guy with open arms. Wanted me to look at him and not punch him in the fucking face for tearing apart our family.” He closes his eyes, lets Chris run a hand down his back. “Didn’t really go according to her plan.”

Chris takes a deep breath, letting the words sink in before letting it out again. “I’m sorry.”

He’s heard Mackie say it before. Heard Chace say it again and again and again, through drunken hazes and comforting hugs and late night calls before he had to give his phone up. He’s heard it enough. But somehow, it sounds different coming from Chris.

“I don’t really wanna do this anymore,” Seb mumbles against his chest. 

Chris drives them home just like that.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes a lot longer for Sebastian to convince Chris to do it than it actually takes to get high again. But when they finally do, Sebastian is amazed.

“I can literally—I can feel…” Sebastian loses track of his sentence but then continues, his words dragging out lazily. “I can feeeeel the bad vibes just fuckin’…evaporating outta my veins.” He reaches up, his fingers pulling at invisible strings near his chest as a visual aid. “S’fuckin’…s’good, man.”

Chris watches him from the couch, blowing a stream of smoke out towards the screen patio door. “That’s good, Seb. I’m glad.”

“And you wanted to go running…” Sebastian snorts at the fucking ridiculous idea of exercising to feel better. Fuck that.

“Next time,” Chris nods, passing the joint down to where Seb’s sitting on the floor with a lazy smile.

Sebastian stares at it, blinking slowly, then his lips curl up into a mischievous grin as he takes it. “So r’we gonna talk about the other night?”

His question lingers for a long time, Chris’s eyes narrowing as he no doubt tries to pinpoint what Sebastian’s talking about. “The other night…” he repeats slowly.

Sebastian licks his lips and then wraps them around the blunt, watching the tip glow as he breathes in. His chest warms, the smoke burning as he blows it out and then coughs. “Yeah I mean,” he coughs again, his voice scratchy when he continues, “Thought you were gonna be all fuckin’ weird about me sucking you off ’n everything but you’re just— like you haven’t said  _any_ thing.”

He hands the joint back up, Chris reaching out without a word and with a furrowed brow.

And Sebastian knows that look. Knows it very fucking well. He collapses backward until his back hits the floor, letting out an unnecessarily robust groan. “Fuuuuuck I shouldn’t’ve said anything.” Now Chris is gonna be weird about it. “Pretend I didn’t say that. We’ll just be chill when it happens.”

And Chris must be a fucking mute or something because he  _still_  doesn’t offer any sort of response.

So Sebastian rolls his eyes and hoists himself up and goes to raid the fridge for munchies. “That’s fine. Don’t wanna talk to me, I’ll eat all your food.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days pass. 

It’s a lot of Coldplay and hot volleyball shorts and Sebastian telling himself that he’s going to meet up with Mackie and tell him about the fact that he’s living with a thirty-two year old man, but things keep getting in the way.

Like Chris trying to get him to go out on runs with him in the morning.

And Sebastian working his ass off on his project because the fucking program decides to start working again.

And the fact that he’s about to go to sleep when Chris comes home from a meeting thing, suit pressed neatly and smile on his face and “Hey I wanna tell you something before you head to sleep.”

“I wanna tell you something” turns out to be “When I was out, I mailed in your tuition for this month. I hope that’s okay.”

“I hope that’s okay” turns into “Why are you looking at me like that?”

And “Why are you looking at me like that?” turns into Sebastian launching himself at Chris, arms wrapping around him and squeezing as tightly as humanly possible because he’s not 100% sure that he isn’t already asleep and just dreaming that he doesn’t have to worry about finding money for a month’s tuition.

He’s not already asleep. This is real. As real as the stupid fucking tear that rolls down his cheek before he can pull himself together and maintain composure long enough to mumble, “Thank you so much” and “You’re the best, I don’t even know how—” and “You have no fucking idea” into his chest. 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Saturday. It’s Saturday and Sebastian is milling about the flat with pent up energy, shimmying around the kitchen until one particular flail knocks something off the counter and onto the floor with a noisy clutter.

Chris glances up at him from the head of the dining room table a room over, the stack of papers in front of him seemingly less important now that his container of kitchen utensils is on the floor.

“Someone’s got a lot of energy tonight.”

Sebastian draws into himself a little bit, a shy deer in the headlights now that he knows that his shenanigans are no longer going undetected. “It’s…well it’s Saturday.” 

“It is.”

“When are you gonna be done doing adult stuff?”

Chris takes a deep breath, a fond smile dancing across his lips as he leans back in his chair. “Why? What did you wanna do?”

Excitement takes off inside of Sebastian as never-ending possibilities flood his brain. “Go out. Go somewhere,” — he’s smiling like a giddy child — “dance somewhere,” — but Chris seems to be getting a kick out of it so it must not be too bad.

“Really? You wanna dance?” 

He asks it with this amused little lilt in his voice, but Sebastian’s excitement peters off into slight self consciousness for a second. “Why…? Is that weird?”

Chris chuckles to himself. “No, it’s not weird.” And then he’s straightening the pile of papers in front of him and standing up with what Sebastian can only call a mischievous smirk as he says: “I know where we can go.”

Turns out Chris is in some kind of cahoots with the owner of the club that they just fucking  _walk into_  without getting carded. Sebastian’s ready to whip his fake out (that Mackie paid for) but Chris just smiles and claps the bouncer on the shoulder and they just waltz right on in. 

It’s kind of exhilarating showing up somewhere like this with Chris. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sebastian wonders how many people are looking at them and wondering what the deal is. If they’re related somehow. If Chris is his fucking pimp or some shit like that. It excites Sebastian to no end, and it must show because Chris is leaning down closer so he can be heard when he says: “Go ahead - I’ll find you in a minute,” and then Sebastian is slipping into the crowd of people dancing not too far away.

There are plenty of contenders for Sebastian to dance with - all older than him by at least a few years but apparently liquored up enough to not notice the difference. (He’s still taller than the girl in the black and white dress so he feels like that particular instance doesn’t count.) It’s not until he’s dancing with the last guy that his eyes land on Chris across the room. 

He’s smiling, standing off to the side and talking to a woman in a really sharp pantsuit and a little name tag on her lapel, and Sebastian pretty much figures that she must be the owner. Chris smiles, amused by whatever she’s saying, before his eyes scan over the crowd in front of them. His gaze snags on Sebastian, doing a visible double-take as he notices that it’s him, and Sebastian is close enough to see the way Chris eyes him up and down before turning to respond to whatever the owner just said. He glances over one more time as he’s talking, and Sebastian knows that that’s it. 

He breaks away from the guy he’s dancing with, zeroing in on Chris across the room.

Chris notices he’s being zeroed in on, whatever he was saying to the owner fading out as Sebastian approaches him. “—told them to uh…”

Sebastian reaches out, grabbing both of Chris’s hands and pulling him away with a smirk.

Chris follows with a chuckle, tilting his head back toward her to squeeze in: “Looks like I’ll just tell you the rest later,” before letting himself be dragged into the crowd of people.

If Sebastian thinks being close enough to hug Chris is intoxicating, he doesn’t know how the hell to describe  _dancing_  with him. Fucking electrifying, maybe. 

Sebastian turns, pressing back into Chris’s firm body and pulling Chris’s hands down until they’re on him - big and commanding and secure on his narrow hips as Seb rolls them to the beat.

He’s surprised, honestly, that Chris is dancing so easily with him, given how fidgety he is about them being in any kind of sexual situation whatsoever. But Sebastian takes what he can get, milking it for all it’s worth as he turns in Chris’s hold and sways his hips against him. 

The beat kicks in low, their foreheads meeting as Seb reaches up to wrap his arms around Chris’s neck. And it’s close and intense and steamy and all Seb really wants to do is lean up and kiss him - brush their lips together and know that it’d be a solid first kiss because they may be at a club but neither of them has had a drop of alcohol yet. It’s all them.

Sebastian tilts his head up, eyes lingering over Chris’s lips, but before he can close the distance Chris is grinning, leaning back as he hums: “How about a drink?”

Sebastian blinks, his heart caving a little in his chest, but then he pulls himself together because he’s still here with Chris - out and in the open and dancing and…and somehow Seb knows it’s not going to be that easy anyway - knows that there’s something about Chris that’s still making him keep a certain amount of distance between them. And he’s just going to have to be okay with that right now.

So he lets himself be led towards the bar, eyes lighting up with mischievous excitement once again as he pours over the ridiculous selection to choose from. Seriously, there’s like…six brands of vodka. How is he supposed to pick?

It’s an impossible choice - far from the cheap beer and jungle juice that he’s used to bumming at parties with Chace and Mackie - but he finally settles on something, his stupid smile giving himself away as it’s placed in front of him and Chris hands his credit card over to the bartender.

“Thanks,” Sebastian grins, trying a sip and bouncing in his seat a little bit as Chris smiles fondly down at him.

“No problem,” he says, taking a drink of his own before lowering his voice a touch. “Just don’t go spreading it around that I’m buying drinks for you, yeah?”

The joking lilt in his voice is obvious, but Sebastian realizes then just how serious it actually is. Because  _yeah_ , Chris could technically get arrested for purchasing alcohol for a minor. Jesus Christ.

“How do you know the owner, by the way?” Sebastian asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

Chris nods as he swallows, subconsciously bringing a hand up to cover his mouth for a second before answering. “I designed a place for her in Australia, actually. She’s got a chain of these things pretty much across the globe - very popular.”

Sebastian blinks. “Well shit. That’s impressive.” And he’s not talking about the club’s success. Because hot damn.

Chris chuckles, shrugging in good nature. “It was pretty cool. I hadn’t ever done something for Australia before.” 

“So that’s why you’ve got that ‘international work’ thing on your website.” And fuck…yeah, it’s just as embarrassing to unintentionally admit that he’s Googled the hell out of him as it was the first time.

But Chris is laughing, shifting his posture so he’s facing Sebastian now, an arm propped up casually against the bar top. “Yes. That’d be why.”

Sebastian smiles and takes another sip, opting to shyly shut his goddamn mouth instead of offering any further ammunition to use against him later. 

Another comfortable stretch of silence passes between them, each at ease simply with the other’s company, when a deep voice on Sebastian’s other side interrupts.

“You look a little young to be in here.” 

Sebastian’s head turns, posture on the defensive as he notices the man standing next to him - tall and built but not as much as Chris. He isn’t bad looking, but the way his eyes are already dragging over Sebastian’s body sends shivers down his spine. 

“Yeah…” Seb answers cautiously, already tilting his head away from him, “…how ‘bout that…”

The man takes a step closer, waving toward the bartender and then motioning toward Sebastian’s glass.

Sebastian uses the chance to glance over at Chris, silently wondering if he can pick up on the uneasy pit that’s beginning to open up in his stomach, but Chris isn’t even looking at him. He’s already got his gaze fixed on this guy, eyes dark and analyzing.

“I can tell when it’s someone’s first time,” the man says, handing a few bills over to the bartender as another glass is slid in front of Sebastian. “Why don’t I show you around? Get you feeling good in no time.”

That uneasy pit in Seb’s stomach gets wider. But he can handle this, so he lets his best impression of a smile flash across his face, voice not as steady as he really wants it to be. “Yeah no thanks, I’m good.” He doesn’t realize he’s leaning back toward Chris until his back comes to rest against Chris’s chest, the warmth there somehow remarkably comforting.

But the man has either had way too much to drink or is just glaringly stupid, because instead of backing off, he takes a step closer. And that’s fucking close enough for Sebastian’s liking. “C’mon, sweetheart—”

“Look, I said no, alright? Why don’t you fuck off?” He can feel himself fuming - annoyed - frightened enough to snap it a little louder than necessary, Chris’s hand coming down to rest warningly on this waist.

But the man must finally get it - must finally see the way every body language choice that Sebastian is making is saying ‘no’, retreating back into Chris even as he glares. 

The man glances over him one more time, then shakes his head and keeps moving, revealing the significantly less aggressive guy who’s been sitting on the other side and apparently also been watching the entire ordeal unfold.

“Wow,” the guy says sympathetically, “What a dick.”

Sebastian straightens himself out — “Tell me about it.” — and then settles back into a more comfortable posture as he glances sheepishly over to Chris, who has now dropped his hand from his waist. “Thanks for letting me handle that.”

Chris answers after a calming breath. “Sure.”

“It was killing you wasn’t it?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Chris is reaching down and smoothly pulling at Sebastian’s stool, sliding it towards him until it’s knocking against the edge of his own, Seb now sitting snugly between his open legs. “Not at all.”

It’s enough to make Sebastian chuckle and blush and feel stupidly giddy all at once, almost positive that there’s no question to any passersby now whether the two of them are here together or not. 

“Don’t drink that,” Chris tacks on, motioning toward the glass of whatever that guy bought for him.

Sebastian regards it with a wrinkled nose. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

They’re left alone after that - left to chat quietly to themselves about bullshit things, about school, about how Chris has done designs for buildings in Paris and Dubai and a few other places that Sebastian’s never even heard of before. He sticks to his one drink, eyes flicking up playfully to meet Chris’s as he takes a sip, and he’s enamored with the feeling of being here, with him, almost as if he’s… _his_? He doesn’t think too much on it, just smiles and listens to Chris sidestep around volleyball questions and knows that everything would be perfect right now if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s still got that uneasy pull in his gut - that feeling that there’s still more to come - that Chris isn’t the only one with eyes on him now.

But he does his best to swallow it down with the rest of his drink, knocking his knee against Chris’s as he hops down and tells him he’ll be right back.

“Do you want me to come with?” Is Chris’s response.

And it’s so sweet and makes Seb feel all warm and tingly inside but he just rolls his eyes fondly as he walks away. “I can take a piss by myself.”

There’s one other person in the bathroom when he gets there, clearly way past shitfaced in the way that he sort of sways at the urinal, one arm propping himself up against the wall. Sebastian throws him a weak smile and then does his thing, pretty proud of himself for keeping his shit together tonight and not getting blackout drunk (like he often finds himself doing at those shitty college parties.)

The man stumbles out the door, having bypassed the sink, and Sebastian just kind of laughs to himself under his breath as he squeezes soap into his palm, wondering if that’s what he looked like that one time he got so fucked up that Chace had to literally carry him out of that girl’s apartment. Good times.

The bathroom door swings open behind him again, this time rougher, the noise from the club filtering back in and out as it closes again.

Sebastian’s heart sinks to the floor when he looks up in the mirror to see the man’s reflection -  _that_  man - the man who didn’t know how to take a hint at the bar. Fuck.

“You’re fuckin’ cocky, ya know that, kid?” His speech is heavy now, slurred by whatever got knocked back between buying Seb that drink and this moment in time.

Sebastian takes a breath - steadies himself - wonders if he could just sidestep whatever the fuck is about to happen if he just plays it cool. “Yeah, listen…” he starts, reaching up for a paper towel but not breaking his line of sight in the mirror. “I was a little aggressive - didn’t need to be that rude. My bad, man.”

He tosses the crumpled up paper towel into the garbage next to him as low-key-quickly as he can, but when he turns toward the door, the man has taken a step closer toward him. Sebastian swallows - hopes to God that this guy is too out of it to see the way he flinches at the closeness, his heartbeat picking up against his chest.

“Like the drink I got ya?” The man asks, taking one more step forward and loosening his tie.

Sebastian compensates with a step back, the sour realization that he’s going to be pinned against the sink if he takes one more making him feel queasy. But he just has to keep his cool. Keep his cool and get out that door and get back to Chris and then maybe—

“I’sked you a question.” The man is losing his patience, a scowl etching creases into his forehead.

“Uh, yeah,” Sebastian nods, his voice wavering with a shakiness that he’s pretty sure this guy hears now. He glances over at the door. “Yeah it was— It was great. Thanks.”

The man mutters something to himself, words slipping together.

Sebastian takes it as his opportunity, taking a step to the side and towards the door. “Okay. I’m just gonna—”

The man reaches out, a hand dropping down onto Sebastian’s chest like a ton of bricks and stopping him and Sebastian panics a little, his stomach flipping and every bad scenario playing through his brain and then—

“Really man? You’re gonna pick on a kid?”

It’s that sympathetic guy from the bar - the one who’s sitting next to him. He’s at the door with this frown on his face and Sebastian locks eyes with him - wide and panicked and  _help me_.

“Fuck off,” the man touching Sebastian grunts without looking.

But the other guy must sense the alarm coming off of Sebastian in waves, because he reaches out and pulls at the larger man’s arm, breaking the contact between the two of them.

Sebastian freezes, doesn’t know where to go with how the two men are suddenly crashing in a mess of arms. But his adrenaline is pumping and the nice guy gets punched and thrown towards the door and Sebastian just fucking goes for it, doing his best to avoid swinging arms and is hot on the nice guy’s heels and is almost out the door when he feels a hand wrap around his wrist and yank  _hard._

Sebastian’s body jerks back, caught off balance as the man gets him by the arms and drives him backwards until his back is colliding with the hard tile wall. The impact is enough to knock the wind out of him for a breath - a split-second wave of panic before he’s breathing out with a whimper and a “fuck” and the man is towering over him, the other guy long gone when Sebastian glances over the shoulder that’s blocking his view of the door.

“You’ve got a big mouth on you kid,” the man sneers, deep voice and whiskey breath and Sebastian grimaces, eyes dropping to the floor because maybe if he pretends it isn’t happening, it won’t be as bad.

He wants to say something - wants to figure his way out of this guy’s hold but—

“Let’s finda better way for you-ta use it, huh?”

Sebastian draws into himself, head tipped all the way down and away and eyes closed because there’s no way he could—

The bathroom door crashes open, Sebastian’s head snapping up to see Chris - shoes slamming against the tile floor as he advances onto the man, his hands clamping down onto his shoulders and ripping him away.

Sebastian topples away from the wall, eyes wide as he stares at Chris - livid and devastating and “Wait for me outside,” without even breaking his death glare at the man who’s now successfully used the sink to keep his balance. 

Sebastian falters, stuck between leaving and wanting to bring Chris with him and—

“Seb,  _leave_ ,” he snaps, because the guy is starting to get his wits about him again, straightening and apparently readying himself to retaliate.

Sebastian does as he’s told - ducks out of the bathroom and nearly runs headfirst into the guy from next to him at the bar. He’s standing there waiting, brow knit with concern as he starts to speak.

“Sorry man, I— I tried. But I got your guy as soon as I could. He fuckin’ ran all the way over here, you should’ve seen it.”

Sebastian stares. Can’t wrap his mind around everything that’s happening. Can’t focus on anything except the crash he hears in the bathroom and the wave of nausea that swirls in his gut from the thought of Chris being in there and getting hurt because of him.

There’s another crash, the guy to his side offering a: “He’s probably fine,” and a “Your guy’s built like a fuckin’ brick-house,” and “Don’t worry, he’ll be out any—”

And then the door is opening, Chris finally stepping out. His lips are pressed into a thin line, eyes still dark. 

“Let’s go,” he says, securing an arm around Sebastian’s middle and directing him away from the bathroom, clapping a hand on the guy’s shoulder before they leave.

The entire ride home is filled with questions. “Are you alright?” “What did he say to you?” “Did he hurt you?” “Did he touch you?” “Did he do anything to you?”

Sebastian answers all of them as calmly as possible, his anxiety finally starting to ease up as he slumps over and rests his head on Chris’s shoulder and just kind of melts into him. 

He doesn’t realize that Chris is hurt until they get into the normal light of the flat, the overhead lights illuminating the faint red high on Chris’s cheek bone.

Sebastian wraps ice in a paper towel and walks over to where Chris is sitting on the couch, too lost in whatever is going on in his head to notice until Sebastian is settling down into his lap, knees pressed snugly on either side of him. That’s when he glances up at him.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says quietly, bringing the ice up and lightly touching it to Chris’s cheekbone. 

Chris looks like he wants to say that it isn’t a big deal - wants to say that his face is fine and he doesn’t need ice - but he just breathes out slowly and then rests a hand on Sebastian’s hip, his voice just as soft. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Sebastian smiles gently, shifting so he’s more comfortable sitting in his lap. “I heard you ran through the whole club to come get me.”

Chris must hear the subtle tease laced in his tone, something gleaming in his eyes as they calmly sweep over Seb’s face - the calm grey-blue, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his bottom lip. “You’re important.”

He reaches up, fingers wrapping gently around Sebastian’s wrist to slowly pull the ice away. 

A corner of Sebastian’s mouth curls upward - a sweet half-smile as his heart lights up in his chest. Then he leans forward, pressing warm lips against the chilled skin of Chris’s cheek, and it’s almost impossible to quell that giddy bubble of sweetness that takes him over.

Chris’s eyes are closed when Seb leans back, opening once the ice returns.

“I’m tired,” Sebastian hums, then a hopeful: “Can I maybe come sleep with you tonight?”

It’s a long shot - he knows - but too much has happened today and he might say he’s okay, but really he craves Chris’s presence - to  _stay_ with him and let himself be held and fussed over and protected.

Chris sits for a moment - thinking - then runs his hands beneath Sebastian’s thighs, getting a good grip before standing and taking him up with him. Sebastian can’t help but grin as he wraps his legs around Chris’s middle and is carried down the hallway without another word.

He falls asleep with his head on Chris’s chest, his hand resting against his stomach and cradled in Chris’s arms.

In the morning, he rolls over and sucks Chris off under the sheets - one last “thank you” that has Chris tilting his head back into the pillow and biting off another moan as he comes.


	6. Chapter 6

_“You listen to him talk about work. You make him laugh. You remind him of his youth. You are there for him physically, emotionally, mentally. He’s not doing you a favor by paying for things for you – he’s reciprocating for how you make him feel. This is no small service – people spend the majority of their money to be made to feel a certain way. It’s a considerable service so don’t ever spend any of your energy feeling bad about asking for what you want.”_

Sebastian reads over the words on the screen one more time. This is his seventh website now that he’s lurked around in hopes of trying to figure things out. 

It’s not that he doesn't want to be where he is right now with Chris, it’s just…he’s never done this before. At all. On any scale. And he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing so to be honest, he needs a little help.

It comes to him in the form of Tumblr posts - shared personal experiences - websites like “Everything You Need To Know About Being A Sugar Baby”.

The one titled “The Do’s and Don’ts For Sugar Babies” provides just that, along with an extra helping of Sebastian realizing that he’s actually probably the worst sugar baby ever. For example:

_“Don’t: Rely on Sugar for Income_.” Right off the bat he’s breaking the first rule. Chris pays for  _literally everything_. He feeds him, gives him a place to stay, buys him a bunch of shit that isn’t really necessary like his phone and those clothes that they went back out for. He’s paying his goddamn college tuition. To say that Sebastian is 100% relying on Chris and his income is not an exaggeration.

And then there’s “ _Do: Keep Your Emotions in Check_.” Sebastian already knows he’s fucked that up, but his morbid curiosity gets the better of him so he reads the description:

_“Don’t forget that, as a Sugar Baby, part of what you offer is a drama-free, simple, and fun experience whenever you are with your Sugar Daddy. One of the main reasons Sugar Daddies seek Sugar Babies is to find someone to help them take the stress away. Keep your emotional expectations in check. Don’t slip into being emotionally-dependent on your Sugar Daddy that isn’t ready for a long-term commitment.”_

And yeah, Sebastian has blown straight through that so quickly that it’s almost laughable. He doesn’t know what level of “drama-free” they’re aiming for, but he’s guessing it doesn’t involve crying about his parents in a dressing room or starting a fight in a club bathroom. Just a guess.

Sebastian takes a deep breath, reads through a few more pages on the most opportune times to show his gratitude, and then clicks out of the tabs.

Okay. Today is the day he’s gonna start being a grade-a sugar baby for Chris.

——————

The blow jobs start out like usual - Sebastian getting down on his knees in front of Chris - thin fingers tugging at volleyball shorts or jeans or  _dress pants_  (those are Seb’s favorite thing to take off of him, the clean pressed fabric bunched at Chris’s ankles so Sebastian can get his mouth around that cock that’s  _always_  already past halfway hard for him.)

And Chris does his goddamn hardest to set up three/four barriers between them every time, eyes shut or hands gripping into the couch like  _yes_  this is good but maybe if he doesn't see Seb or touch Seb it’ll be like everything is okay and he’s not letting someone twelve years younger than him suck him off. 

But Sebastian wants that contact. Craves it. Shows he needs it by hollowing his cheeks and running his tongue up Chris’s cock and muttering with as much lust as he’s feeling: “Do you wanna watch?” and “You can look at me.” and “Bet you’d watch if I deep-throated you.”

That last one hits it right on the head, Chris’s eyes falling open in a mess of curiosity and apprehension and  _no, you wouldn’t—_ and then Sebastian is tilting his head forward, relaxing his throat and taking as much of Chris’s cock in his mouth as he can until the tip of it slides smoothly against the back of his throat.

He’s done it before, but only a couple times, and neither of the guys were as fucking  _big_  as Chris is. But he holds it there for a second, steadying himself before drawing back to the tip and then swallowing him down again a few times. And when he glances up - incredible doe eyes somehow despite the fact that he’s got Chris’s entire dick in his mouth - Chris is looking back down at him, brow furrowed and mouth dropped open and  _yes_ , this is what Sebastian is fucking aiming for here.

Chris looks at him more after that - probably realizes that this kid knows what he's doing and  _wants_ to do it for him so fucking bad that sometimes he’s shaking with anticipation when he gets down on his knees. 

And knowing that Chris is watching him as he gives him head now gets Seb off like none other. He tries extra hard when he knows, parting his lips and swirling his tongue around the head of Chris’s cock, knowing that the little hitch in Chris’s breath is because of him. It shoots fire through his veins and strokes his ego but—…but Chris still won’t touch him. Won’t thread his fingers through Seb’s hair. Won’t run the pad of his thumb over Seb’s bottom lip before he takes him in his mouth again. 

Sebastian reaches up once, blinding grabbing for Chris’s hand because if Chris is thinking Seb doesn’t want to be touched, he’s fucking wrong. He’s about to bring Chris’s hand over and put it on the back of his head himself, but then the last shred of moral reasoning still clinging onto dear life as he deep-throats Chris tells him not to. If Chris wants to touch him, he will. Sebastian just has to be patient.  _More_ patient than the whole watching thing.

It’s just a little difficult when Sebastian wants those strong hands all over his body at literally any time of day.

——————

“Mm, Coldplay… Imagine that.”

They’re driving back from dinner, the sun just beginning to set as the first track on Ghost Stories starts to play.

Chris lolls his head to the side to throw Sebastian an amused look. “You really have a problem with my music, don’t you.” 

It’s more of a statement than a question. And Sebastian shrugs with a little smile. “Nah just—… I mean, this is one of the only things I’ve heard you listen to when I’m around. And Coldplay is so…”

Chris glances over at him expectantly, a grin slowly forming across his lips. 

He waits.

Sebastian waits.

They roll to a stop light, Chris still watching him expectantly, and Sebastian supposes that he doesn’t necessarily need to bash it when he  _did_ find himself humming Always In My Head to himself a few days ago. (He won’t admit that to Chris, though.)

Instead, Sebastian unloops the AUX cable from where it’s been accidentally wrapped around something near his foot and plugs it into his phone. He fiddles with random buttons on the counsel until Chris bats his hands away and presses the right one, connecting Sebastian’s music to the speakers.

“Okay, quick lesson on current music,” Seb begins, pulling up Spotify (that Chris so wonderfully paid for) and selecting the first song. “Alright, this is Nicki Minaj. Kind of an old song and super overplayed, but still one of her best, I think,” he says, the beginning of Super Bass starting to pump through the speakers. When he peeks over, Chris is just sitting there, smile entertained and shaking his head as he drives. Sebastian takes it as a sign to continue. “Okay cool. This one’s Iggy Azalea. I’m not fired up about her but a lotta people are. I dunno if you’re familiar with her or not.”

That’s enough to pull a laugh out of Chris, his head still shaking. “Yes. I  _am alive_ , Seb. I  _do_ hear this music every day like you do.”

Sebastian watches as he chuckles, something warm and loose blooming in his chest. He lets it spread through him before settling back into his seat and switching the song to something a little less Iggy and a little more Grouplove.

They drive in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Chris’s calm question. 

“Do people still listen to 50 Cent?”

Sebastian blinks slowly, fighting the smile that threatens to stretch across his face as he slowly glances over to Chris.

And Chris must understand the silent answer because he nods and then directs his attention back to driving.

——————

It’s Monday night when Sebastian finally decides to tempt fate and peek his head into the little den/office/workroom that Chris holes himself up in when working on his architecty stuff. The room is dimly lit except for the light hanging over the drawing table that Chris is leaning over.

He doesn’t seem to notice that Sebastian is lurking over by the door until he looks up in the reflection of the window and sees the slim silhouette against the light from the hallway.

“Can I come in here?” Sebastian asks quietly, careful not to wreck the atmosphere that the silence around them creates.  

Chris turns to look over his shoulder, watching Seb for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”

It feels like some sort of special occasion, Sebastian’s feet carrying him into the uncharted territory of the den as he pads over to where Chris is beginning to draw again.

“What’re you workin’ on?” Sebastian asks when he figures out he can’t make heads or tails out of all the directional lines drawn cleanly onto the thin paper before Chris. It’s a building, obviously - he gets  _that -_ but…

Another sweeping line is set into place as Chris runs his pencil tightly over the straight edge of a ruler, then he takes a calm breath. “Plans…” he says tranquilly, drawing another line over the one he just did. “…for a firm in London.”

Sebastian nods, impressed but still mindful not to ruin whatever vibe Chris has going for him at the moment. So he just stands - tucks his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and watches.

It really is something, the way Chris measures and considers and measures and considers and then reworks and considers again. The way he chews on his bottom lip as he draws, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It’s remarkable.

“Gonna stand there all night, or…?”

Sebastian shrinks into himself a bit, caught staring intently. “Oh uh…no, I can leave you alone.” He turns to the door. “Sorry. I just think it’s cool—”

“You don’t have to leave,” Chris interrupts cooly, his tone never losing that nonchalance. “It’s just…you're hovering. It’s throwing me off.”

“Sorry…” Sebastian says again, picking at his nail inside the hoodie pocket. He glances around the dimly lit room, searching for a chair where there seems to be a severe lack of one. “Do uh…”

Chris sweeps something off the paper and then rolls his chair out and towards him, glancing up at Sebastian when he doesn’t move right away.

Because Sebastian’s brain is having a hard time computing what’s happening. Surely Chris didn’t just—… He’s not offering—…

“Gonna stay, or what?”

Sebastian swallows. Apparently he  _is_. “Are you sure?” Because wow, this is too good to be true.

“Window of opportunity slowly closing,” Chris says, but he’s smiling softly, eyes still scanning over his work - attention in two places at once.

And Sebastian doesn’t want to lose out on prime closeness-time so he stifles a smile and drops into Chris’s lap, resisting the urge to say something stupid when Chris swings the chair around and their legs disappear back under the desk.

And if you told him a month ago that he’d find himself in a den, sitting in a handsome, rich architect’s lap as he works on his designs for a firm in London, Sebastian would have asked you what you were high on and if he could maybe get some of it.

Yet here he is, Chris’s chest pressed warmly along his back and their heights perfect enough that Chris is casually looking over Seb’s shoulder, arms snug underneath his as he reaches around to keep drawing. And Sebastian has to physically stop himself from bouncing up and down because this is just out-of-this-world-ridiculous. 

Especially when Chris seems to be at a momentary loss, pressing forward even more and resting his chin on Sebastian’s shoulder as he reassess the paper laid out in front of them. That’s when he lets out a long, drawn out sigh, his breath warm as it fans against the side of Sebastian’s neck. And Sebastian does his best not to lean into it - silently hoping that those lips will brush against him, over his shoulder and the crook of his neck and up beneath his ear.

His eyes fall shut just from imagining it, but then inspiration strikes and Chris is right back to his work, which is good, Seb decides. Because Chris being inspired means he’s in a good mood and works quickly and sometimes he lets Sebastian hold the ruler down while he reaches over him and runs his pencil against it.

And Sebastian is just so head over heels into being Chris’s little helper that nine times out of ten he doesn’t even care that he doesn’t kiss him.

———————

After Chace asks him for the sixth time if he’s done it or not, Sebastian decides that it’s time to tell Mackie about the fact that he’s living with Chris. Even if it’s probably going to be a complete shitshow.

So he calls him up - tells him he wants to talk to him about something - knows to expect the “oh jesus, what’s  _that_  mean?” so the eye roll isn’t as extensive as it could be.

He plans on dropping the bomb at Mackie’s apartment or at a restaurant or something but his nerves get the best of him and it’s gotta happen sometime so he just nods to himself and then blurts out:

“I’m living with Chris.”

Mackie snorts out a laugh, heavy and loud as he grips the wheel and turns the corner. It’s the kind of laughter reserved for when Sebastian slips on the ice patch outside of his place and falls on his ass, and honestly, it throws Seb for such a loop that all he can do is sit there and stare at him.

Mackie’s still laughing - shakes his head like he’s heard the funniest thing ever, his voice strained. “No you’re not, man.”

Sebastian stares, brow furrowing as he watches what he can only label as the calm before the storm. “I am,” he says carefully.

Mackie snorts again - his laughter dying off but grin still stretched across his face as he glances over at him and then back to the road. “Nah. Nah, man.”

And the storm is approaching, rumbling in the distance as Mackie glances over at him again, smile starting to slowly slowly  _slowly_ drop as he realizes that Sebastian isn’t laughing.

“…I am.”

It’s a slow downhill pull, the way Mackie finally seems to register that this is not, in fact, a joke and that Sebastian is, in fact, living with Chris. And it’s only a matter of time after that.

“I’ve got my own room,” Sebastian calmly eases in before Hurricane Mackie comes barreling through the car. “And he’s feeding me and paying for my tuition and he’s being incredibly chill about it.”

Mackie slows the car - fucking brings them to a slow crawl right in the middle of the street and then looks over at him. “ _What_?” 

Here it comes.

“Mackie—”

“Fucking  _what, Sebastian—”_

“—can’t just stop in the middle of—”

“How fucking long has this been happening?”

He’s fuming now, frown deep and outrage impossibly apparent and Sebastian now realizes that this was the absolute worst place to do this but there’s nothing he can do but say: “About a month.”

The car wrenches to the side, Seb holding on for dear life as they nearly drive up and onto the sidewalk that they park at in the blink of an eye.

“What the hell are you thinking, man?” Mackie snaps, unbuckling himself so he can turn his entire body toward Sebastian, eyes swimming with aggravation and worry and something else that Seb can’t put his finger on but it’s not good. “What part of this sounds like a good idea to you?”

“Uh, I dunno, how about the part where I’m not scumming around in a shit apartment trying to pay for everything out of my pocket?” Sebastian knows that snapping back isn’t going to help anything - has had enough confrontations with Mackie to know that  _very well_  - but there’s something about being the object of everyone’s condescension that makes it damn near impossible to keep his mouth shut. “You have no idea how fucking  _shitty_ it was living like I was—how it felt to fall asleep every night thinking ‘Well _fuck_ , I dunno how I’m gonna figure out food for tomorrow, I hope someone buys my piece of shit sketch so I don’t die!’” It’s over the top and it’s too much but Sebastian feels it too deeply within himself to stop. “Chris takes care of me. He feeds me and he pays for school and he actually fucking likes me, and if that’s too fucking confusing for you to wrap your mind around, I honestly don’t know what to do for you.”

Anthony shakes his head, eyes dragging everywhere but Sebastian as he takes a deep breath. And when he speaks, it’s no longer fueled with fire. It’s short. Blatant. “Well listen, man. I may not live in a million dollar house. And I may not buy you phones like it’s fuckin’ nothing. But I’ve been there for you whenever I could be. I don’t get off on making someone ten years younger than me think I’m a good person, but I’ve sat in that shitty apartment with you and done what I could. And I hope you remember that when you’re sitting there eating your fucking steak and having someone wipe your ass for you.”

And that’s that. 

That’s that because Mackie turns back towards the wheel and pulls them back into traffic, gaze pointedly fixed in front of him.

Sebastian doesn’t move. Just glares at a spot on the dashboard and tries to steady how his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. Because somewhere deep in the back of his brain, he knows that Mackie’s right. Knows that he’s been there for him - done his best with what he has. And Sebastian just blew right through that fact like a proper asshole. 

They drive in uncomfortable silence - thick, thick tension - for what seems like forever. And then Sebastian sighs.

“Sorry, man…”

Mackie’s gaze stays fixed in front of him for a moment more before it drops to the wheel, a sigh of his own escaping. “I didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“I get why you were.”

“I just don’t want you fucking yourself over.”

“I know,” Sebastian nods. And when Mackie doesn’t respond in any way, he says: “I don’t wanna fight over this with you anymore.”

They ease towards a stop sign, the car rolling to a complete stop before Mackie answers. “I wanna meet this guy.”

And that’s… “I dunno…” Sebastian winces, a whole host of issues with that idea cropping up in his head.

“It’s because I don’t trust him,” Mackie explains. “I don’t trust him and that makes it really hard for me to be cool about this whole thing.”

Sebastian taps his fingers against his thigh. He supposes that makes a shit ton of sense. “I’ll figure something out,” his mouth says before his brain can produce a solid enough plan.

But it seems to tame Mackie’s aggravation, because he’s nodding next to him. “Alright.”

They keep driving - to God knows where - and then Mackie is the first to speak up.

“When’re you telling Chace?”

Sebastian stays silent, guilt spreading.

“You already told him,” Mackie says then, like he should’ve already known that was going to be the answer. “Of course you did.”

And really, Sebastian has nothing to say for himself about the fact that he runs to Chace for everything, so he just looks out the window and lets Mackie have his moment.

It turns out they’re driving nowhere. Just around the town until the next thing that they should talk about crops up. And Sebastian supposes he’s cool with that, because it gives him ample opportunities to bring up a number of other things that he’s already cried to Chace about. And in the end, they end up driving until the green numbers on Mackie’s counsel read 3:02 and Sebastian realizes that he still has the second part of his afternoon to do.

“Could you drop me off somewhere?” he asks nonchalantly, pulling up an address on his phone.

Mackie nods and takes the phone so he can see where he’s headed and drives there without a question (something they worked out together long ago when Sebastian’s antics required him to snag rides to weird places like midnight hardware stores and the free personal health clinic on the other side of town).

_‘ny volleyball teams’_  is what he had typed into the Google search bar a few days ago. What he got was the listing of a facility about twenty minutes away from the flat, and Sebastian was pretty much ready to bet his life on the fact that that’s where Chris ducks off to every Wednesday afternoon. And since it’s now technically 3:04 on Wednesday afternoon…

———————

Once Mackie’s car drives away, figuring out where all the gym shoe squeaks and grunting is coming from is relatively easily. Sebastian follows the half circle of shut-down concession stands until he sees light coming from an opening at the end of the hallway.

That’s when he steps out into a section of bleachers high above the noises - a dozen well-built dudes scrambling around on a basketball court taped off with volleyball dimensions.

A surge of excitement rolls through Sebastian, driving him to duck down and creep until he’s in the middle of the empty bleachers that wrap high around the court. He’s not too far away to see each player’s face, scanning each of them in search for the one that he’s come to know all too well.

That’s when he hears it, the deep voice call out: “Grillo, side-out!” and his eyes fix on that unmistakable body.

Sebastian feels himself squirm excitedly from where he’s hiding. 

Because there’s Chris. In all his tight jersey/tight muscles/tight butt glory. And  _hot. damn._ does he look fucking good.

Chris surges up, shoulders nearly busting out of his damn shirt as he blocks a hit that comes sailing from the other side. The ball drops onto the opposite side of the net, Chris coming down and landing with such grace that it drives Sebastian crazy. Because how can he be such a fucking powerhouse and then drop down and barely make a noise?

Sebastian watches with wide eyes, like a kid in a candy shop as Chris goes up for hit after hit. And he’s  _almost_ sure he’s got himself under control, but then it’s Chris’s turn to serve. He steps back until he’s just a few strides outside of the court, bouncing the ball three times before holding it again.

It must be his muscle memory strategy or whatever the fuck, Sebastian decides, never super into sports but still somehow knowledgable enough to know about goddamn muscle memory strategies.

It really doesn’t matter, because then Chris is zoning in, taking a breath, and then hurling the ball up about fifteen feet into the air above him, eyes zeroing in on it as he does this fucking remarkable thing with his body and then jumps and smacks his hand against the ball midair with a grunt -  _right_  at the right time and the ball goes fucking zooming across the court on fire and Sebastian is pretty sure he comes right there in his hiding spot because  _oh fuck. Oh no. Chris is a beast._

The serve smashes down just on the edge of the other team’s court line, which is apparently the best thing ever because everyone is rushing over and patting Chris on the shoulder and the back and  _oh no he just slapped that guy’s butt._

Sebastian realizes right there that coming here is both the best and the fucking worst idea ever. It’s the best because seeing Chris like this is so fucking hot that it hurts. And it’s the worst because seeing Chris like this is so fucking hot that it hurts.

Sebastian shifts, his thighs beginning to burn from crouching for so long, and that’s when his phone falls out of his pocket and makes the worst clattering noise in the world against the metal bleachers.

He ducks, his heart spiking up into his throat, but he’s just slow enough for Chris’s super-speed-enhanced reflexes to snap over to where he’s hiding, their eyes connecting. 

Sebastian sinks back into the metal of the bleachers, defeated.

Well…there goes his hiding spot.  _And_ getting to creep on Chris being all sexy-volleyball-player without being noticed. He’s never going to get a chance to see this ever again.

Except…

Except then something weird happens. Chris doesn’t glare up at him. Doesn’t frown and look disapprovingly and shake his head. He smiles. No—he fucking  _smirks_ , eyes flashing with something so cocky that all Sebastian can do is stare back, mouth open in shock.

Because Chris is…he just goes back to playing, nothing changing in the way that he moves around, but every once in a while he’ll make an incredible hit or do something considerably hotter than normal, and he’ll fucking  _glance up at Sebastian_ like he’s _making sure he’s watching._

And fuck.

_Fuck._

Why the hell  _wouldn’t_  Sebastian be watching?

It’s all Seb can do to contain himself - wait it out - stay hidden from everyone else until practice is over. Chris waits around, taking an unnecessary amount of time to gather his stuff into his bag  for obvious reasons. When Sebastian is sure everyone else is gone, he hops down the bleachers and meets Chris out on the court, his Converse squeaking against the polished wood.

When Chris notices him, he throws the rest of his stuff into his bag and then swings it over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow and looking down at Sebastian with what he probably thinks is a strict face. “Thought I told you to leave the whole volleyball thing alone,” he says sternly.

And he’s trying to be authoritative and scold Sebastian for coming when he told him not to but he’s shit at it and Sebastian just grins knowingly, rocking back onto his heels as he somewhat discreetly checks him out up close. “Yeah, I saw you smiling, Mr. Showoff,” he teases. “Don’t try to hide it.”

Chris rolls his eyes and starts walking, but Sebastian can see the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and just barely bites back the smirk that dances across his face.

This was the best idea ever.

——————

Jerking off in someone else’s bed used to be a weird thing, but now it’s pretty chill. 

You can be broke as the day is long, but jerkin’ it is free. No matter who’s bed you’re in. So when Sebastian slips his boxers down over his hips that night, visions of chris and that ass and him smacking that ball around and what a beast he was and  _oh god_ …it doesn’t take long for him to come to the thought of those hands on him - strong and authoritative and skilled.  

It’s a thought that has Sebastian groaning into his fist, imagining Chris bending him over his knee and just going to town and—…

Sebastian grabs blindly for his phone when he's done, typing quickly into the search bar as he pants and feels himself getting hard all over again.

_how to ask your sugar daddy to spank you_


	7. Chapter 7

Seb would like to say that he gets his shit together and walks right up to Chris and says: “Spank me, daddy,” with all the confidence in the world, but that’d be a lie. 

What actually happens is he wusses out. Like four times. He thinks he’s ready and then somewhere between the internal ‘ _alright son, let’s do this’_  and actually speaking to Chris, something short-circuits in his brain and his nerves kick up and he just kind of flounders away, Chris watching after him with calculated confusion.

It’s dumb but at the same time Sebastian doesn’t really blame himself, because like…how often do you approach the man who’s feeding/housing/clothing you and ask him to smack your ass until you either lose your nerve or ( _oh god could he ever be so lucky?)_ actually  _come?_

Not often. Not often. 

So Sebastian isn’t  _too_ hard on himself. He does have a few pep talks along the lines of  _‘come on come on come on just ask him. it’s never gonna happen if you don’t ask him’_ , and those pep talks are usually what push him to approach Chris with a certain amount of confidence. But then of course their eyes meet and Seb’s face heats up and really this is fucking  _stupid_  because was it not him who just blew Chris on the balcony a few hours ago?

It doesn’t matter. The nerves come and they stay, making it damn near impossible for those words to actually travel from Seb’s brain and out his mouth.

So he maybe…kind of…does something not  _incredibly_ smart. There are worse things, he supposes, than showing up at another one of Chris’s volleyball practices again, especially since no one saw him do it. Hell, he hid so far back into the bleachers that  _Chris_ didn’t even know he was there until he was about to walk out the door of the whole goddamn facility and Sebastian yanked at his sleeve, out of breath from scrambling down all the bleacher steps so he didn’t miss the ride that Chris didn’t even know he was giving.

Chris had looked shocked and confused and even a little nervous, glancing out the door to where his teammates were all nodding goodbye to each other before heading off to their respective cars. Sebastian expected it - knew that he was cutting it really really close showing up there and just narrowly avoiding a confrontation with Chris’s friends.

But now they’re back at the flat, Chris shaking his head and hanging his jacket up with a curt little huff as Sebastian follows behind him, equal parts shamed and guiltily interested in this aggravated-Chris that he hasn’t seen before.

“I’m just—I could’ve fucking left you there, Sebastian.” His tone is firm and a step louder than normal but not angry. Just…fed up, maybe.

“I know,” Seb answers without missing a beat. “I know, I just wanted to see you play again—”

“Okay but don’t just show up!” Chris is throwing his shoes on the doormat and Sebastian’s pulse is quickening because— “How am I supposed to—… Too many things could’ve gone wrong there—”

“I know—”

“We have to be careful—”

“I  _know_ —”

“No clearly you  _don’t_ know, Sebastian. What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

“Spank me.”

Chris stops in his tracks, eyes flicking up to Sebastian’s right as the words register for Seb too.

Oh fuck.

Chris is looking at him, brow still furrowed in aggravation, but something has changed in his eyes — gotten darker. “What?”

Sebastian swallows, not entirely sure what part of him thought that now was a great time to suggest that, but he’s gotten this far and Chris didn’t just flat out say ‘no’ and maybe he could — “I fucked up,” he gets out, fingers immediately dropping to worry at the hem of his shirt as he continues. “I fucked up and—…you should spank me, and then I’ll realize what I did was wrong and I won’t do it anymore.”

The air in the room is thick, Chris watching him like a hawk from where he’s standing in the living room. Sebastian can feel how those blue eyes trail over him hesitantly — unsure.

Chris’s voice is low when he asks it. “Is that really what you want?”

Sebastian can feel his heart in his throat, his fingers threatening to worry a hole straight through the fabric of his shirt. He nods.

There’s a moment where everything just seems to kind of hang on a thread, Chris’s eyes boring through Sebastian’s very soul, and Seb’s almost positive that he’s thoroughly fucked up.

Then Chris carefully sits on the edge of the couch, pushing the coffee table away with his foot before nodding over to Sebastian with a calculatedly calm: “C’mere.”

Something in Sebastian’s chest detonates — a massive flooding wave of nerves and arousal and  _disbelief_. Because this can’t be—… They’re not actually gonna—…

Chris blinks up at him, patient and in control, and Sebastian is drawn toward him like he’s being pulling by some sort of invisible string, walking over with what he hopes doesn’t appear to be the nervous deer-in-the-headlights look that he feels in his very core right now. 

He must not be doing that stellar of a job, because Chris narrows his eyes a little — reconsidering. “Are you sure?”

But Sebastian nods, taking a deep breath before kneeling at Chris’s side on the floor. 

“You look like you’re trying to stop yourself from saying something,” Chris says, not making any movements that’ll bring them closer to actually doing this.

And Seb can already feel the deep warmth of arousal washing over him. “No, I’ve just—…I just really want this.”

He feels stupid saying it.  _Really_ stupid. Feels stupid for nearly popping a hard-on in those tight metal bleachers the first time he saw Chris smack that volleyball like it was nobody’s business.

But: “Bend over.”

And  _oh God_ if Sebastian dies from this whole thing, he’s totally satisfied with those being the last words he hears. 

Chris’s gym shorts are cool and soft when he brushes against them, pressing his chest and stomach over Chris’s legs and then pressing forward until his hips are up against his calf. He’s bent over him, knees digging into the carpet and ass sticking out in the open and  _fuck_  this is actually gonna happen.

“You need to tell me when to stop,” Chris instructs relatively coolly, although there’s still that edge of caution that laces his words. “And if it’s too hard. Or not hard enough. Got it?”

Sebastian nods, his pulse taking off through his skin as he feels Chris’s hand come to rest on his ass, big and authoritative and warm even through the layers of jeans and boxers between them.

“Ready?” 

Sebastian nods, his response caught in his throat as the hand disappears and then comes back down, cracking against him so quickly that he can’t help the little whine of surprise that slips through his lips.

There’s a pause — too long, way way  _way_ too long — and then Chris’s hand is cracking down again, pain and heat and delicious  _want_  blooming inside Sebastian.

“Oh fuck…” he breathes out, voice way too breathy and needy for how they’ve just started.

“Too much?” Chris asks.

But Sebastian can’t even fathom him stopping now, not with the way his entire body is lighting up after only two spanks. “No,” he answers (too quickly probably), his hips swaying against Chris’s leg a little as he shifts his stance, knees pushing into the carpet even harder. “Keep going—please.”

Chris takes a moment, whatever internal struggle he’s going through seeming to be working in Seb’s favor. Because then his hand is back, smoothing over Sebastian’s left cheek and then coming down sharply.

The sting is just enough to have Sebastian’s eyes squeezing shut, his body jerking forward from the impact. He doesn’t mean to, but the breathy little moans slip out again, especially after the next hit — the one that has his head dropping forward and lips parting and “ _Ohh_ …”

“Harder?”

“Mmph…yeah,” Sebastian huffs, mouth pressed into a firm line at the next smack, “Yes please.”

Chris obliges, delivering slap after slap after slap, each a little harder than the last — a little rougher and more pointed until he’s building up a rhythm, a slap on each cheek with barely enough time to come down off the sting before his hand connects again and Sebastian’s  _struggling —_ hard and face red and eyes shut tight and whimpers muffled by how his bottom lip is bitten between his teeth.

“Mm _f_ _uck_ —”

“Tell me what you want,” Chris orders, breath coming out a bit ragged himself as his hand cracks against Sebastian’s ass. 

But Seb can’t get it out, riding high on the embarrassingly addictive sting that drives him to lean into Chris, pressing his lap against Chris’s leg and— “Hhh—fuck—”

“You gotta tell me what you want, Seb.”

“Fuck m-mmm…”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me,” he whines, voice breaking. “Want you to fuck me.”

Sebastian’s hips lift, anticipating the force of the next slap, but it never comes. He breathes out, confused and needy and then— Then he realizes why Chris’s hand stops. What he  _said_.

A curl of dread uncurls in his gut, eyes wide as he lifts his head to look back at Chris. “Oh God. Oh God, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Chris says, but he’s staring back down at him like it’s not, line of concern etched into his brow. “We just…we shouldn’t—”

“I didn’t—” Sebastian’s borderline frantic now, pulse racing for an entirely different reason. “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“It’s—spanking is one thing and fucking is another—”

“No, I know. I know, I’m sorry I just got—”

“I mean it’s not that I don’t—” Chris stops himself — honest to God shuts his mouth and closes his eyes for a second before opening them to continue. “It’s not a good idea.”

Sebastian stares, can’t force himself to say anything because  _what_  did Chris just almost let slip out? 

“Yeah,” he says eventually, his mind trying to focus on the fact that he’s still in Chris’s lap and he’s still shamefully hard and they’re talking about them  _fucking_. “Uh,” he manages, taking a second to swallow down a shaky hum as he accidentally brushes against Chris’s leg. “Wh—why again?”

He hopes Chris knows what he’s talking about. Hopes actually that Chris just ignores that entire question completely because it was meant to stay in his brain — the one currently experiencing a power outage due to conversation topics and a southernly directed blood flow.

Chris stares down at him, mouth open to say something, and Sebastian feels all kinds of weird still stretched out over his lap so he pulls away, opting to stay seated on the floor with his forearms resting on his knees.

“It’s not a good idea,” Chris says finally. But it’s exactly what he just said a few seconds ago. In the exact same tone. That wincey  _how do I sidestep around this without coming across as a total ass?_  

It’s pretty disheartening, to tell the truth. And not only that, it totally kills Seb’s boner.

“If doing this makes you think about that…” God, Chris is being so careful, “Maybe we…shouldn’t…”

Sebastian lets that sink in for a moment, the utter vagueness of it all not connecting in his still hazey mind. He has to spell it out for himself — blatant and undeniable: they shouldn’t do this whole spanking thing if Seb is gonna wanna fuck after it. 

Sebastian flusters, fingers dropping to run over the indentation that the coffee table leg made before being thrust aside for their shenanigans. 

“No, I—…”  _I can keep it in my pants._  How does he say that without sounding like a  _total_ teenager? “I can keep it in my pants.”

Not like that.

Chris laughs, surprisingly, and for a moment Sebastian glares at him because he’s pretty sure he’s being made fun of. But then Chris runs a hand through his hair and heaves a deep sigh and just kind of sits there, gaze somewhere not even in this room.

“What a fucking day,” he hums.

Sebastian watches him — how he sort of sinks back into the couch, arms draping out over the back of it. 

Apparently they’re done talking about this.

That’s fine with Seb though, who’s eager to move on from yet another one of his social faux pas that have spiraled out of his control entirely. If he’s not doing it with Chace or Mackie, he’s doing it with Chris, and he supposes he’s just going to have to get used to that.

Sebastian lifts himself from the floor, settling down next to Chris on the couch — but not before letting out a tiny hiss of pain from the collision of sore ass and couch cushion. 

Chris glances over at him, wincing from his own bout of guilt. “Sorry.”

And that’s just hilarious, Chris apologizing for spanking him so hard that he still feels it. And that’s  _with_  his jeans still on. God help him if they ever do this without pants.

“No, you—” Seb huffs a laugh, eyes widening comically as he shifts into a more comfortable spot, “You did a great fuckin’ job.”

Chris doesn’t say anything, but Sebastian can see that tiny trace of a smile that dances across his lips as he turns back to where he the TV is now turning on.

He’s certain they’ve made it through the conversation completely until Chris takes another deep breath, a light playful hum escaping him as he says: “Well maybe next time I’ll have to be a little stricter, then.”

———————

(Seb jerks off two times that night: once to the memory of Chris’s hand slapping against his ass, and the other to the thought of Chris towering above him, smirking down at him as he fucks him into the mattress.)

———————

It’s Friday. 

It’s Friday and Seb and Chace and Mackie are all out on campus and Seb can’t even be pissed at the fact that they’re at a frat house because he’s too relieved with the fact that Mackie doesn’t seem to be mad at him anymore. That, and he’s pretty fucking wrecked.

“What’s—who d’we even know here again?” Chace, who is currently hanging off Sebastian’s arm, asks before bringing his beer up to his lips.

Sebastian tries to think really hard but. Yeah. “Uh…I think Kevin?” It’s a good guess in his book, because Kevin is kind of a tool and definitely built like one so… “Yeah I think Kevin.”

“Oh.”

They’re in the basement because Sebastian has specifically expressed his total ick-out about the hallways in this particular house — usually crowded and sweaty and nine times out of ten someone’s pissed in the corner and that’s just not Seb’s scene no matter how hard he tries for Mackie. Who is…

“Where’s Mackie?” Sebastian asks, finishing his beer and grabbing another one off the little counter thing near the table. If there’s one thing Phi Kaps is good for, it’s free beer.

Chace shrugs, blinking lazily before seeming to fix his gaze on something across the room. “M’gonna take a piss.”

Sebastian nods — then, “Wait. Wait hold on,” reels him back in by the arm before reaching up to fix the stupid little tuft of hair that’s sticking up near Chace’s bangs. “Mkay you’re good.”

Chace staggers away then, leaving Sebastian to lean up against the wall and check to see if Chris texted him (he didn’t) and finally get to make uninhibited bedroom eyes at this dude who’s been trying to secretly check him out all night.

If Kevin’s a tool, this dude is a complete tool box. The kind that opens up and has like three of those fold out shelf things to hold all your man tools and shit in. But he’s got a beard. A nice beard. And Sebastian’s not even gonna lie to himself and say that the only reason he’s into him is because he reminds him of Chris.

Like a whole fuck ton.

The rest of his beer goes down semi-easily, his body telling him _“ease up there, buddy”_  but his brain telling him  _“you might need one more if you’re planning on fooling around with this guy”_. He listens to his brain, pretty much just fucking chugging the thing and apparently that’s what fratboy wants to see because he’s got his eyes on him almost the entire time.

Sebastian sets the empty can on the table, wiping a hand over his mouth and burping unattractively in the process, but it gets out of his system in time for him to start his sloppy but totally zeroed in approach.

Fratboy sees him — starts his trek upstairs without even waiting for him but Seb figures that’s probably how it works when you don’t want the rest of your fraternity brothers to know you’re about to go stick it in some skinny dude.

The hallway is just as gross as Sebastian remembers, reeking like a few things that he doesn’t wanna try to think about as he follows, just far enough behind that he can still see the toolbag’s swagger between bros making incredible sexual claims and girls leaning against each other. But he somehow manages to not puke all over his shoes and makes it through the door that’s cracked just an inch for him.

Sebastian’s not entirely sure what to expect (he doesn’t exactly hook up with fraternity dudes every other weekend), but the room is small and cramped and dark and the guy is on him in seconds, hands going to his belt and tugging and Sebastian kinda has to just stand there and get a grip for a second, his eyebrows raising in lazy surprise as his belt is pretty much ripped out of his belt loops.

“Paid-a lot for these jeans, dude,” Sebastian slurs, amused by his own inside joke because no, that was Chris who paid for them.

But fratboy doesn’t get that and isn’t laughing and isn’t…really looking Sebastian in the eyes. And that’s when Seb gets that  _oh._ It’s gonna be one of _those_ things.

He swats the guy’s hands away, barely getting his pants off and nearly stumbling over in the process before fratboy is completely naked from the waist down. 

And yeah. It’s gonna be one of those things.

Sebastian grunts as he’s manhandled onto the bed, eyelids heavy but dick absolutely ready to go when he feels the weight press over him. “Take it you don’t have lube?” he assumes, judging by the way this guy is acting and the Sports Illustrated posters of almost naked women plastered all over his walls. He just answers the question for himself, reaching over for his wallet and sliding out the thin packet of lube that he carries with him in constant hope. 

And then some time is lost — blacked out and edgy and Seb’s got his fingers in his ass and it’s nice and feels good and the guy is waiting sorta impatiently but Seb’s pretty sure he tells him to “calm the fuck down, man, we’re not gettin’ anywhere if I don’t grease the skids”. 

In his defense, he’s never used the phrase “grease the skids” in his entire life except for this moment, and he doesn’t particularly care that this guy might think he’s dumb for it because it gets him slick and stretched out and then the guy is pressing forward and fucking him, the headboard on his bed smacking against the wall with every thrust.

It’s dirty and pretty below him but Sebastian just sees the beard and the muscles and closes his eyes and sees Chris — above him back at the flat and fucking him into his bed. Or Chris’s bed. Maybe it’d be better on the couch. No, definitely Chris’s bed.

Sebastian reaches out and runs his hands over those muscles and then wraps a hand around his own dick — so fucking sexually frustrated by this stupid rich gorgeous architect who lets Seb blow him but won’t fuck him and — He groans, getting himself off to the thought of him and then the guy’s coming too and Sebastian knows he calls him Chris but he’s too drunk to really give a single fuck.

And when everything is done, he goes back into the gross hallway with the loud people and the questionable smells and then heads back downstairs into the basement, a certain amount of relief taking over him when he sees Chace standing over where Mackie is.

He grabs another beer and chugs half of it before finally listening to his body and taking it easy. And really all he wants it to talk to Chris — hear his voice — see what he’s up to at home while Sebastian makes questionable choices on his behalf. 

When Chris picks up on the other line (Sebastian doesn’t exactly remember calling, to be honest), he sounds worried. _“Seb? You alright?”_

And apparently he’s said it a few times now, so Sebastian finally tunes into the conversation. “I-just..got fucked by-a guy who—who looks like you.” His words are all slurred together and he can barely make out what he’s even saying, but: “Pretended it was you anyway.” 

There’s absolute silence on the other line for God knows how long, then Chris’s voice is back, clear and stern and exactly what Sebastian craves to hear. _“Where’s Chace?”_

Sebastian’s gaze flicks over to where his friend is standing off to the side, laughing as Mackie must say something hilarious. 

“Why w’ntyou fuck me?” He asks instead, staggering a little against the wall that he’s propped himself against. “Is-it because m’twenty?” 

There’s a sigh.  _“Sebastian-”_

“D’you not like me?” 

_“You need to take a second and think about whether or not you really wanna be having this conversation with me.”_

Sebastian frowns, unsure about what that means. “Why?”

Another sigh. More sternness.  _“Because you’re totally shitfaced right now and you probably don’t know what you’re saying. And I don’t want you waking up tomorrow and beating yourself up for it.”_

Chace laughs at something again from across the room and Sebastian tries to block it out with a long breath out. “Hmmgotta talk about it sometime.” 

_“I’d rather talk about it when you don’t sound like you’re about to pass out.”_

Sebastian groans something noncommittal, watching as a girl comes up and touches Chace’s arm. 

He only zones back in when Chris sounds like he’s on about his third round of asking the same questions.  _“How’re you getting home? …Seb? Are you staying there or is someone driving you back?”_  

“Yeah Mackie’s— Mackie’s driving.”

_“Is he drinking?”_

Sebastian groans, his head hitting back against the wall. “No,  _dad_ , s’not drinking.”  

Chris isn’t amused like he was that one time they got high and Seb called him daddy.  _“Don’t give me that shit, Sebastian. You know there’s no way you should be getting into a car with someone who’s b—”_

“Yeah. Yeah I got it okay.” 

And then Sebastian either waits out the lecture or hangs up on Chris but either way he just kind of ambles over to Chace and Mackie, riding out the rest of the night without drinking anymore because suddenly he’s not feeling too well.

He makes it almost all the way through the front door of Chris’s flat before the bile rises in his throat and he’s stumbling headfirst into the bathroom, completely bypassing Chris’s attempt at some sort of conversation.

He pukes for a solid half an hour. He should’ve listened to his body.

Chris carries him to bed and tucks him in and puts a glass of water on the nightstand anyway.

———————

When he wakes up, all the memories of the night before start flooding back. 

He regrets sleeping with fratboy. But he doesn’t regret calling Chris.

 And he’s not sure what kind of fucked up person that makes him.

———————

It’s no more funny business after that — Seb does his goddamn hardest to maintain composure and not be a total dweeb and fuck shit up (ie: blurt out things that are better left not blurted out).

They chill and go out to dinner and Sebastian silently admires Chris in his dark fitted suit from across the table — the way he drapes his napkin across his lap — pulls his phone out to silence it before tucking it back into his suit jacket — sits there with a serene, collected smile on his face as Sebastian tells him about how school is going. 

There’s still that spark of guilty excitement that flashes through Sebastian when the bill comes and Chris pulls out his wallet and signs shit like it’s nothing. It’s not technically the fanciest place in New York but it’s formal enough that Chris had suggested that Seb trade out his Grouplove t-shirt for one of the button downs that he bought him.

But the point is, things are settling down again. Sebastian isn’t barreling headfirst into conversations that require at least a basic level of tact. He isn’t shouting things out at weird times and making everything turn uncomfortable and awkward for both of them. He isn’t calling Chris at 1:17 in the morning to tell him that he was nailed by someone who looks like him. Everything is, for the most part, cool and calm and chill.

So when he ducks his head into the den a few days later as the sun is just beginning to set, his voice drawn out and childishly innocent, “Chriiiis?”

And when Chris looks up from his schematics with a calm but amused: “Yeeees?”

And when Seb presents his best good boy smile, tucking his hands behind his back in the process and asks: “Can we please go to that drive-in movie a couple towns over tonight?”

And when Chris glances down at his work and then back up to where Seb is waiting so patiently — puts his pencil down and nods and grabs his keys off the table, Sebastian doesn’t even consider the fact that he’s about to do it again — about to fuck things up and make things so awkward that it might be beyond repair this time.


	8. Chapter 8

When they get to the drive-in theater, the movie that’s playing for the night is some Kevin Costner drama that Sebastian’s never heard of or really has the interest in seeing. But it honestly doesn’t matter because he’s too excited to be out with Chris again. 

In fact, they’re already a good fifteen minutes into the film when Sebastian uses his best nonchalant voice to say: “So popcorn…”

Chris huffs out a quiet laugh, apparently amused by Sebastian’s attention span, and lifts his hips off the seat to get his wallet from his back pocket. He holds out a ten dollar bill over the armrest box between them, but then draws it back when Sebastian goes to reach for it, adding a playful: “Can you not drown it in butter this time?”

Sebastian nods, the memory of that one time they saw the Bradley Cooper movie and he maybe got a little heavy handed when put in charge of buttering their popcorn resurfacing. “Roger roger,” he confirms, then snatches the bill out of Chris’s hand when it’s offered again and hops out of the car and toward the concessions.

He returns with a carefully straight face, subtly watching Chris out of the corner of his eye as the older man helps himself to a handful of the popcorn.

In his defense— _in his defense_ —Sebastian’s never been to this place before, and he’s not used to the butter dispenser doo-hicky thing, so there may or may not be more butter than really necessary again  _but_ (but), he did do his best and the fond little smirk and eye roll that Chris gives him when he realizes this fact is pretty sweet. 

Sebastian sets the soda cans in the cup holders between them, being careful not to spray the whole inside of Chris’s expensive car with sticky Coke as he opens his own. And Chris isn’t saying anything about the popcorn so Seb must’ve only created a pond of butter instead of an entire ocean like last time. 

“Give you any change back?” Chris asks, setting the popcorn between them and then wiping his hands on one of the sixty five napkins that Sebastian brought back to the car. “Or are you planning on keeping it so you can sneak out and go buy candy once you get bored again?” He says it with a smile, cracking open his soda and bringing the can up to his lips.

“Nah I mean, you’ll just give me more money for that if it happens, won’t you?” Sebastian shoots back. “I mean, that’s kinda the point of a sugar daddy, right?”

Chris sputters violently against the can, soda spraying out from the sides of his mouth and down his shirt and against the leather steering wheel and something heavy and confused sinks in Sebastian’s gut because that is  _not_  the reaction that he was expecting.

Chris wipes a hand over his mouth, grabbing blindly for the pile of napkins as his head whips over and he fixes Seb with an incredulous look. “Oh my God _what_?” 

Sebastian watches in horrified confusion, his mouth opening to answer but nothing coming out except: “ _What_? What do you mean  _‘what’_?” because how did that observation warrant this type of reaction unless Chris didn’t already think they were—…

Unless Chris didn’t think that’s what they were doing in the first place…

“Oh my God.” Chris is setting his Coke can into the cup holder between them, brow furrowed and gaze troubled as he wipes the steering wheel down with one of the flimsy napkins. “Jesus, I’m not—what made you think I was your—…?”

Sebastian blinks. Waits. Can he not even say it?

“Sugar daddy?” he finishes, stomach swirling with an odd mixture of dread and embarrassment. He continues when Chris glances over at him. “I just—… I thought…with you helping me so much…and buying so much shit for me…” his voice sounds small now, unsure and doubting his own thought process. “I mean…you let me suck you off to thank you so I…I just thought—”

“Oh God…” Chris is leaning back into his seat now, his eyes squeezed shut as if there are wires connecting in his brain and things are finally making sense and maybe if he doesn’t watch it all unfold in front of him it won’t be real. “God, Seb. I don’t do those things so you can get me off.”

But…Sebastian was clear and prefaced damn near every fucking time he went down on him with some version of ‘ _let me show you how thankful I am’_ so… “Why do you help me so much then?”

Chris stares at him for a moment, eyes sweeping over his face and lips parting only to close again. 

Something explodes on the screen in front of the car — a massive detonation of fire and crunching metal — but it goes unnoticed.

“I do that stuff,” Chris starts, his voice low and heavy, “because I want you to be happy. You shouldn’t have to—… You were living without electricity and water and I couldn’t just move on knowing that I could’ve helped you but didn’t.”

Sebastian lets that sink in — tries to let it be enough, but… “There’s kind of a difference between giving someone money for rent and letting them stay in your house for two months.”

Chris lets out a long sigh, his gaze dropping as he speaks. “I know. I got a little carried away.” The movie washes greens and blues over his skin and it’s so pretty that it hurts. “I don’t usually… _do_  stuff like this. You just make me—…”

Sebastian hangs onto his words, waiting waiting  _waiting_  for him to finish, but he doesn’t. And Sebastian feels too awkward and strange with his own thoughts to say anything in return. 

So they sit there, the popcorn left untouched between them and the movie playing on like Chris hasn’t just obliterated whatever fucked up understanding of things Sebastian had figured out in his head.

What is he supposed to do? 

What are they—…what  _are_  they now, then?

Sebastian finds himself caught between wanting to hide himself against the car door and wanting to retreat into Chris’s hold — just move the arm rest up and press against his side until one of those strong arms wraps around him.

But Chris is in his own world entirely, staring down at the steering wheel as the gears turn relentlessly in his head.

———————

When they get home, Sebastian considers just going to sleep. It’s 9:30 but anything would be better than having the feeling of Chris’s eyes on him — _judging_.

He slips his shoes off and hangs his coat up and lets the live-wire of emotion just spark straight through him as he stalks down the hallway toward his room with a frustrated: “I know it’s fucked up, okay? I fucked up,” his door slamming before Chris even has a chance to respond.

———————

The next morning, he wakes up to the smell of syrup, sticky and sweet in the air while the rest of his senses rise from their slumber as well. 

The soft melody of something Coldplay greets him as he makes his way through the hallway — bare feet padding lazily over heated wood floors. He runs a hand through his disastrous bed-head, his shirt riding up over his hips annoyingly in the process.

Chris is in the kitchen when he gets there, along with a plate stacked high with pancakes in the middle of the kitchen table. Sebastian wants to be grumpy but the pancakes  _do_  look good and Chris  _does_ look casually gorgeous in that particular pair of sweatpants.

“There he is,” the older man smiles, pouring two glasses of orange juice into cups and then bringing them over to the table. “I knew it’d only be a matter of time before my pancakes pulled you out of bed.”

Sebastian opts to push down the little feeling of hope that warms his soul with a glance at the clock. “Must be it. I dunno why else I’d be up at 9:00 on a Saturday morning.”

Chris hums a chuckle, their eyes meeting, and there’s something about it that maybe makes Sebastian feel like less of a grump — that Chris is obviously trying really hard to make him feel as comfortable as he can and that’s enough for Sebastian to get that naggy little pull in his heart again.

Sebastian pulls a couple of forks out of the drawer on his way to the table, sitting with one loud stomach growl. “Is this because of last night?”

He knows it probably breaks protocol to call someone out on their good deed attempt, but if there’s going to be deep discussion, he figures they might as well get right to it.

Chris seems like he’s straddling the threshold between gratefulness and discomfort, but he presses on regardless.

“I know my reaction wasn’t exactly welcoming last night,” he says, forking himself two pancakes and plopping them down onto the plate in front of him. “And it was probably extremely awkward for you and I didn’t really help at all with that so… I just wanted to apologize and let you know that I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable.” 

Sebastian nods, thumb running over the smooth lines of the fork in his hand. He doesn’t want to feel uncomfortable either. But can things really be fixed that way? Just say ‘hey how about no one is uncomfortable?’ and then they’re back to getting high on the balcony and arguing about music? 

Chris speaks before Sebastian can come to any conclusions himself — serious but still kind and comforting. “Listen, I also want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you, alright? Hey,” he reaches across the table, brushing the backs of his fingers against Sebastian’s hand until their eyes meet. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck in a place where you have to do something for me just so you can get help.”

Sebastian’s heart kind of caves at that, the words meaning more to him than he really can grasp in that moment. He glances down before meeting Chris’s gaze again, tone low and curious. “What if I want to, though?”

His question lingers, floating between them in the empty space before Chris swallows and then offers a tiny trace of a grin. “Then we figure that out when we come to it.”

It’s kind of a vague answer, but Sebastian nods anyway, because technically Chris could’ve just thrown him a ‘no we’re not doing that anymore’ or something like that. And that’s…that’s pretty positive, right?

Sebastian’s train of thought is interrupted as a pancake is dropped onto his still empty plate, Chris retreating back across the table with his fork when Seb looks back up.

“Do I need to cut it for you too?” Chris grins, and it’s playful and sweet and it pulls Sebastian back into that comfortable teasing that he expects between the two of them.

“Uh, no,” he says quietly, a lopsided smile curling across his lips as he looks down at his plate. “You can pour my syrup for me, though.”

Chris laughs.

Sebastian laughs.

Things might actually turn out okay.

——————

“I feel responsible for making sure you have a plan.”

They’re at the coffee shop. The one where Chris gave Sebastian a phone. Seb only thinks about that because they just got done looking at laptops at Best Buy, Chris not even trying to hide the fact that he’s trying to figure out what kind Sebastian needs for his projects before he actually buys it for him.

Sebastian looks up from where he’s texting Chace, his eyes darting around the café in uncertainty. “A plan?”

“Yeah. For your future.”

Sebastian blinks. Oh.

“What’re you planning on doing after you graduate?”

Seb’s phone buzzes but suddenly he’s a little too preoccupied with the matter at hand to care. “Oh uh…” It’s not something he’s really sat down to think about for a while. Ever since Chris picked him up off the street, he’s had a few other things on his mind. “Uh, you know…”

Chris doesn’t look convinced. On the contrary, he looks very very concerned. “I see. Well…do you want help planning it out? You should probably get a pretty solid idea of where you’re heading after you’re done with college.”

Sebastian taps his fingers against his phone, shifting in his seat a little. Where he’s heading? He hasn’t really thought about it.

He takes a deep breath, the prospect of graduating and then going out into the real world on his own summoning up a whole host of nerves and anxiety that he wasn’t prepared to battle in the middle of a coffee shop. “I dunno. Maybe…maybe I could just kinda…stay with you?” ‘ _Until I get a job’_  is what his common sense wants to tack onto that sentence, but his heart lassos the words and ropes them back down his throat before he can say them.

Because that’d…that’d be pretty fucking amazing, wouldn’t it? Staying with Chris even after he’s done with classes?

Chris’s worried brow-furrow tells Seb that no, it wouldn’t be. “You don’t want your own place?” he asks carefully, just enough gentleness in his voice to mask the growing concern. “You could get your own apartment with a studio and everything.”

Sebastian wants to laugh but the way his nerves are swirling makes it comes out as a pitiful whimper. “Yeah? With what money?”

Chris sees the problem immediately, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing forward. “I mean…I could help you out. Until you got a steady income.”

Sebastian frowns. “And then what?”

Chris doesn’t have an immediate answer for that one. And it pulls at every one of Sebastian’s worries all at once. When he finally does speak, it’s confident but less than happy. “And then…you can do your own thing and become a famous designer and start a family.”

Everything in Sebastian’s body ices over — every nerve, every pang of anxiety, every illogical shred of hope freezes up and Sebastian wonders if this is what it’s like to shut down.

“Sebastian.” Chris’s voice is close but muffled — deep but hazy — far away and right up against him at the same time. “Seb?”

The hand on his knee brings Sebastian back, his brain doing its best to kickstart again and form an answer.  _You can do your own thing and become a famous designer and start a family._

Sebastian wants to ask  _‘but what about you?’_ Wants to ask  _‘you’re just going to leave me?’_  Wants to reach over and grab Chris’s hand and never let go because: “So what, we’re never gonna see each other again?” Just saying it shouldn’t make his stomach turn over on itself but it does.

Chris looks like he’s having trouble himself, but he’s doing considerably better at hiding it — always does. “I don’t know  _what_  would happen with that,” he answers slowly.

And that’s not a good enough answer for Sebastian. Not even a little bit. 

“I don’t feel good,” he says, draping a hand over his stomach and standing.

Chris follows, on his heels but still somehow beyond graceful about it as Sebastian bursts through the one-person bathroom door and hangs his head over the toilet.

Chris is locking the door and crouching beside him in a heartbeat, one hand going to his back and the other to his thigh to ground him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says as gently as possible. “I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

Sebastian answers by puking, his stomach tensing and eyes squeezing shut and really he should be embarrassed but he’s not.

“It’s okay.” Chris’s fingers spread out over his back, stroking ever so softly. He tears off a strip of toilet paper with his other hand and sets it in Sebastian’s lap. “You’re alright, Seb.”

He’s shaking now — Sebastian — tears welling up in his eyes from the pressure but he keeps blinking them back because Chris is kneeling in his nice dress pants on this gross bathroom floor for him and he’s gotta stop throwing up sometime, right?

He reaches for the toilet paper in his lap, shaky fingers brushing against Chris’s, and the next wave of nausea that rolls through his body has him abandoning the toilet paper altogether and holding onto Chris’s hand instead.

It lasts a lot longer than it should, but Chris is patient and runs his thumb over Sebastian’s hand and murmurs soothing things to him like “You’re alright. Everything’s alright.” and “We don’t have to talk about it now.” and “It’s okay, Seb, just let it out.”

——————

They don’t talk about it for the next few days.

Sebastian is grateful.

They get high on the balcony and Seb laughs so hard that he cracks his face against the railing and it’s so funny that he collapses onto the ground in hysterics.

“Oh God, are you okay?” Chris winces in second-hand pain, but he’s laughing and so’s Sebastian so it really only makes sense that Sebastian’s heart is feeling all light and airy and nice when Chris leans in and runs his fingers lovingly over the small red welt that’s beginning to rise right above Sebastian’s eye.

It makes sense because he’s high and they’re laughing and it’s a positive atmosphere.

It’s not like he’s skirting the line between attachment and love or some stupid fucking bullshit like that.

——————

Chris lets Sebastian sit in his lap and help him with the schematics again. This time he gets to hold the ruler almost the whole time. It takes a significantly longer time, but that’s okay because Seb is too busy getting off on the natural high of being Chris’s little helper again.

——————

It’s Tuesday night. It’s Tuesday night and they’re straightening up the living room because Chris is expecting his mother tomorrow and they may have accidentally trashed it when Sebastian dared him to smack his volleyball up between the two hanging lamps without touching them. Chris had  _done_  it, (of course he did), it’s just that they didn’t factor in the part where the ball comes crashing back down into the coffee table and scatters everything everywhere.

The point is, they’re both gathering up magazines and coasters and other assorted living room essentials, and Sebastian is in a good place because he finally gets to put his music on and they’re currently cycling through his personal playlist on his phone.

One of the coasters’ cork has snapped out for good, so Sebastian walks over to chuck it into the garbage  _just_  as the next song on the list begins to play. Loudly. And fuck  _oh no_  oh God it’s—

Sebastian’s head whips up, stare fixed onto where Chris has just realized it too, eyes wide and mouth stretching into an entertained grin as he points at Sebastian. 

“You have Coldplay on your playlist!”

“No!” Sebastian cries out, scrambling toward his phone because he’s spent his entire stay here bitching about how lame Coldplay is and Chris is never gonna let him live this down if he doesn’t—

“No leave it!” 

And now Chris is scrambling up from his spot on the floor too, the two of them each moving with the kind of frantic drive that the situation doesn’t really call for, each converging onto the fixed point at which Sebastian’s phone rests on the arm of the couch.

Seb dives for it, launching his body onto the couch with one last dying: “They’re so lame!” before realizing that Chris has done the same thing.

They come together in an awkward tangle of legs, Chris doing his best to avoid squishing Seb beneath him as the younger man rips the plug to the speakers out of his phone.

The incriminating Coldplay song cuts out, leaving Sebastian to shuffle his body under Chris’s so he can turn and show off his victorious smirk.

_‘I win,’_ is what he plans on saying before the words get stuck in his throat. Because he didn’t fully realize how close they are until just now, Chris’s body snug on top of him, eyes pouring down into his own.

It’s the closest they’ve been. Closer than that time in the hotel room — where Sebastian had been anxious and smitten and  _drunk_. It’s way closer than that. So close that he can see the tiny flecks of almost-navy hidden deep in Chris’s eyes.

They’re beautiful. He’s beautiful. Whatever the fuck they have between each other is beautiful. And Sebastian’s not going to run away this time.

He tilts his head forward, pressing his lips against Chris’s, and it’s soft and sweet and the feeling wraps around Sebastian and holds him there, warmth pooling in his heart at the touch.

They part, Chris’s eyes dancing with something indescribable as they dart away from Sebastian’s gaze, but his lips are still right there and so tempting so Sebastian leans in again for another kiss.

Chris backs away this time, his head pulling up and that look that was once indescribable now perfectly clear. It’s caution. 

But all Sebastian can see is the frown thats pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I thought we said…” he pushes out, heart caving, “…we were gonna figure it out when it happened.”

That’s what they said. That’s what they fucking said at the kitchen table a few days ago, wasn’t it? That Sebastian wants things to happen between them and that they’d work it out together when the time came but—…this isn’t working things out. This is Chris  _rejecting_  him.

“Sebastian—”

“What the fuck,” he huffs to himself, pushing up on Chris’s chest and twisting out from under him. He damn near falls onto the floor in the process but he doesn’t care — is too swamped with the break-neck discouragement and shame and fucking aggravation that spreads inside of him as he clambers to his feet and starts making his way down the hall.

“ _Sebastian_.”

The couch creaks and then he can hear the footsteps falling behind him, matching speed as he quickens his pace toward his hiding place.

He’s got his bedroom door open and almost has it slammed shut when Chris’s arm flies against it, his other hand reaching out to wrap around Sebastian’s wrist and pull him back towards him as he steps into the room.

Sebastian reels forward from the force, the door slamming on its own as Chris slides a hand up his neck and presses their lips together and Sebastian just—… He just—…

“Don’t,” he huffs, pushing Chris away from him for the second time tonight. His heart desperately wants to be happy but his brain is too loud and he just— “Fuck. You’re only doing that because I’m mad—”

“No I’m not,” Chris cuts him off, but he pulls his hands back and for once, Sebastian is actually grateful for it. “I’m not, it’s just…” he takes a deep breath, so visibly worked up that he’s shaking his head and running a hand through his hair and— “It’s just fucking crazy, Sebastian. What we’re doing is so— You’re _twenty_. You’re fucking  _twenty_  and I’m standing here,  _trying_  to keep myself from getting too attached and caring too much and wanting to fuck you and it’s all just so  _fucked._  It’s  _fucked_ , Sebastian.”

He takes another deep breath, taking a step to the side to as he closes his eyes and tries to calm himself.

And Sebastian doesn’t even know where to go from here. 

“You shouldn’t get to fuck with me like that.” It catches both of them by surprise, Sebastian even more so because it’s coming out of his own mouth. “You shouldn’t get to decide one day that I can blow you and you’re gonna spank me and then turn around the next day and make me feel like shit for kissing you. It’s not fucking fair.”

That hits Chris deep. Seb can see it. 

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “No, you’re absolutely right. I know. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about kissing me. It just caught me off guard, I — I wasn’t ready to realize how much you mean to me yet.”

Sebastian’s voice is shaky and betraying, but he grits it out regardless.“Then realize it.” He can feel the tears coming — the hot prickling wetness under his eyelids. “Show me you realize it and that you’re not actually a complete asshole.”

Chris stares at him, brows knitting together. But then he steps forward, his hands reaching out and Sebastian’s eyes fluttering shut as those fingers brush against the sides of his face — soft and tender and cradling. 

When Chris kisses him, it’s slow and with purpose. 

It’s sweet and warm and powerful and it moves the ground beneath Sebastian’s feet.

It pulls every doubt from his bones and it doesn’t banish them but it picks them apart and lightens the burden and it replaces the extra space with a glow that Sebastian’s never felt in his entire life.

“Why’re you crying,” Chris murmurs, gently wiping the pads of his thumbs over where his breath is ghosting over Sebastian’s cheeks. “Why’re you crying, huh?”

And Sebastian wishes he could tell him. Wishes he could let everything go and just accept it and have his own little realization moment. But all he can do is take a breath, eyes closing and brow furrowing and just… “I’m frustrated…”

Chris waits a moment, probably allowing time for any type of clarification. But when he must realize that that’s it, he wraps his arms around Sebastian and pulls him against him and Sebastian melts — doesn’t even fold his arms around him — just sort of leans against the warmth and sighs.

He finally hooks an elbow around his neck when Chris bends down and picks him up, pulling his legs around him to hang on before walking over to the bed and sitting the two of them up against the headboard.

The bedsheets are cool beneath them, Sebastian deciding that it’s a good time to wrap his arms around Chris now as they sit, Chris brushing his fingers down Sebastian’s back.

“I’ve been thinking…” Chris starts quietly after a long stretch of silence, “Would it be better…if we  _did_  do the sugar daddy thing? If we just straight up decided that that’s what we were going to do?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer right away, his brain too fuzzy to make decisions.

“There’d be a structure to it,” Chris continues, “We could figure out exactly what our boundaries are and set them. It would take a lot of the guessing out of everything, instead of us dancing around each other trying to figure it out for ourselves.”

Sebastian lets that sink in, blinking lazily against his shoulder. It  _would_  be nice to know what’s on the table and what isn’t. To have some sort of guidelines instead of Googling everything. “Maybe.”

“We could fine-tune it,” Chris says then, stilling his fingers and instead simply holding onto Sebastian. “That way you don’t feel like you’re obligated to do things if you don’t want to. I still mean what I said before, regardless.”

_‘I don’t expect anything from you,’_ is what he had said.  _‘I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck in a place where you have to do something for me just so you can get help.’_

Sebastian leans his head back, finally pulling away from Chris’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. The plan doesn’t sound bad. Continue having things bought for him and showing his thanks whenever he feels like it?  _And_  Chris will actually be on board with his thanking now? Less drama? No, it doesn’t sound that bad at all.

“We should try,” he grins softly, nose red and eyes still a bit puffy but hope returning once again. 

Chris’s eyes sweep over Seb’s face, a tiny grin pulling at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sebastian falls asleep in Chris’s lap, heart heavy for a number of reasons and motivation reappearing with an excited spark.

He’s gonna be the best fucking sugar baby that Chris has ever seen. For real this time.


	9. Chapter 9

Chris and Sebastian’s Totally Rad Rules For All Things Sugar-Related

by  **Seb (SB)** and  _Chris (SD)_

**1)** **SB gets the right to be like “no dude that’s too much” if SD decides to buy him really expensive + exotic things like say maybe a speed boat**

_1.5) That’s fine, as long as SB doesn’t whine about it and make SD regret trying to do something nice for him._

**2) SB gets dibs on all leftovers that SD brings home from business luncheons**

_2.5) SB gets dibs ONLY if SB promises not to get sauce on the couch like last time._

_3) SB will listen better when his SD tells him not to do things._

**3.5) I’m coming to your volleyball practices there’s literally nothing you can do about that**

**4) SD will not feel weird about spanking his SB as punishment for maybe idk coming to his volleyball practices or something**

_5) SB will actually talk to SD during spankings so SD knows he’s not crying real tears._

**5.5) okay listen do you know how hard it is to talk when I’m bent over you and my ass is on fire?**

****_5.25) No._

_6) If at any time SB feels uncomfortable with something that he and SD are doing, he will immediately tell him to stop and they will work it out together._

**7) same for SD**

**8) also SB gets to sit on SD’s lap as much as possible**

**8.5) and SB gets to hold the ruler during work more**

**8.whatever) also if SD wanted to maybe spank SB with that ruler it wouldn’t be totally out of the question** _Fine._

_9) SD and SB promise to communicate with each other and understand that they can stop the SD/SB relationship at any time._ **yes good**

**10) rule #10 because I want this list to be even**

 

_11) rule #11 just to fuck with you_

 

**12) you’re a dick**

 

_13) :)_

 

**14) CHRIS STOOOP**

 

_15) stop what_

 

**16) all rules after this point don’t count**

 

—————

 

_Thinking_ you’re a sugar baby and  _knowing_  you’re a sugar baby are two verydifferent things, Sebastian realizes a couple days into it.

_Thinking_  you’re a sugar baby is when you’re pretty much just dicking around, not even 100% sure what you’re doing but still trying pretty hard to make your sugar daddy happy, even when he’s hesitant and confused and weird about it.

_Knowing_  you’re a sugar baby is when there’s no doubt about it anymore. No more  _‘well, he let me give him head but what does that mean?’_  No more  _‘wow is that really a new outfit already? Should I be doing something special for him because of this? Because I definitely want to.’_ You just do it.

In Seb’s opinion, he very much prefers  _knowing_. There’s just something about being conscious of the fact that Chris is his sugar daddy that really draws him in and keeps him there like a moth to a flame.

What’s even better is that now he’s justified in trying to impress him — now it makes sense that he keeps himself in good shape and practices his flirty smiles and wears those tight pants that make his ass look awesome. It makes sense because he’s gotta stay sharp for Chris — gets off on that solid rush of having the older man come home and look him over with an interested gaze. It’s fucking empowering, is what it is. And Sebastian’s pretty sure he’s hooked.

——————

Chris’s mother has to cancel coming to visit, which works out great for Seb because he would’ve had to be scarce for awhile while she was here. (Both he and Chris agreed that they’re not exactly ready to be bringing mothers into the equation yet — not when they’re still getting their feet wet with the whole  _actual real life_ sugar-thing they’re doing. And really, how are you supposed to introduce yourself to someone’s mother in that situation? “Hello, I’m the college kid that gives your son head when he buys me expensive gifts. Nice to meet you.” Not likely.)

_Regardless_ , Seb can’t get over the fact that they basically cleaned the living room for no reason, because he’s still just a child and finds those kinds of stupid grownup activities to be a major pain in the ass. But Chris is happy, so he’s happy.

Until one night Chris  _isn’t_ happy. He comes home from a meeting, dragging himself through the front door and setting his bag next to the shoes instead of by the table like usual, and Sebastian doesn’t know what to do besides quietly put away the homework he’s just managed to finish on the coffee table.

“How was your meeting thing?” he asks carefully from his spot on the carpet.

Chris doesn’t seem to be in the mood for discussion. “Fine.”

Sebastian watches as he slips his suit jacket off and slings it across the chair in the kitchen. There’s a negativity in his tone — in the way he moves. Defeat. Gloom.

Sebastian knows how to fix that.

“ _Well_  Mr. Big Important Bossman,” he begins, hoisting himself off the ground so he can saunter over to Chris and tangle their fingers together, slowly beginning to pull him toward the couch. “Why don’t you just relax for the rest of the night?”

A trace of a grin dances across Chris’s lips, an eyebrow raising just a touch as he lets himself be directed into the living room, Seb walking backwards and smiling up at him. “I have things I have to do.”

“They can wait, can’t they?” Sebastian’s fully aware of the smirk he’s got going on, and how it turns everything he says into something less than innocent. “Isn’t it more important that you feel better first?”

He guides him to the couch, Chris settling down onto it and glancing up at him as he stretches his arms out along the back. “You’re gonna make me feel better?”

And now Sebastian isn’t the only one smirking.

“Stay here,” Seb says, feeling those eyes watch him until he’s completely around the couch and in the kitchen.

He grabs a glass from the wrack and a candle from the cupboard and returns to the couch with both in hand, the small glass filled with what he’s 93% sure is Chris’s favorite scotch.

The candle gets set on the side table by the lamp, casting the room with a warm flickering glow as Sebastian eases the lights down to something more relaxing.

Chris is watching him when he comes around to stand in front of him again, this time with the glass of scotch.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Seb asks, handing him the drink and then sinking into his lap to straddle him.

Chris is quiet for a moment — debating going into it, it seems — and then he shrugs. “Just didn’t really go like I’d imagined it would.”

Sebastian frowns sympathetically, trailing his fingers up Chris’s chest until they wrap around the knot of his silky black tie. “They don’t like what you’ve got planned out for them?”

He gently loosens the knot, inspired to slowly pull the tie out from under the pressed white collar by the feeling of Chris’s free hand coming to rest on his waist.

“They decided at the last minute that they wanna tack on an additional half a dozen things to their concept,” Chris huffs. He takes a drink — a long one — and then looks back up at Sebastian. “It’s for that building in Chicago. You know the one.”

Sebastian nods, doing his best to drape his tie over the back of the couch so it won’t wrinkle. He knows that building  _very_  well. That’s the one he got to help draw the floors for.

“That’s stupid,” he says, fingers dropping to the first button on Chris’s dress shirt. “They can’t just throw that at you.”

Chris’s hand slips from Seb’s waist to his lower back as he takes another drink, the warmth spreading there. “They can, actually,” he counters with light bitterness. “And they did. They  _are_  the clients.”

“Well they’re stupid,” Sebastian repeats all the same, voice stubbornly adamant. He pops open the third button on Chris’s shirt and deems his job successfully carried out. “Want me to rub your shoulders?”

Chris huffs a quiet laugh, eyes shutting. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I want to though.”

He must say it in some special way or something because Chris just looks at him like he’s the most endearing thing on this planet before chuckling again. “Yeah okay, just— don’t make me drink alone.”

Sebastian smirks. He can do that too.

He evens Chris’s drink off before pouring himself his own — definitely not the scotch because that’s never been his jam. The point is, their glasses keep filling and Sebastian sits in his lap and rubs the tension out of Chris’s shoulders, sneaking his hands under the collar of his dress shirt to feel those muscles underneath his fingers after his second drink. (Don’t judge him, anyone would do the same thing.)

Soon it doesn’t really matter because attention spans stray and smiles get sloppy and Sebastian nearly falls off Chris’s lap to go turn music on because suddenly he’s got all the energy in the world bottled up in his narrow little frame and he’s gotta get it out somehow.

He’s got Grouplove playing before he realizes he’s doing it, but at least it’s not Coldplay. (And okay, truth is he really does kind of like Coldplay now. But it’s probably from having it pounded into his goddamn brain all day and he’ll be damned if he lets Chris know that. So shh.)

The ground dances under Seb as he sways his hips with a giddy grin, the music injecting him with a sort of unfounded confidence that has Chris chuckling fondly from the couch.

“Y’should come dance with me instead of laughing at me,” Sebastian hums dreamily.

Chris laughs again anyway. “I don’t think I could keep up with the intensity you’ve got goin’ there.”

He throws him a look. “Oh-ho, trust me. You’ve never  _actually_  seen me dance before. This is nothin’.”

“I dunno if I’m scared for you or intrigued—”

“ _Hey_. I’m a fuckin’  _great_  dancer—”

“Oh yeah?”

“—fuckin’ great—”

“You gonna dance for me then?”

Sebastian stumbles to a sloppy stop, a strange mix of excited arousal and sudden shyness swirling in his stomach. His eyes meet Chris’s, and there’s something flashing there that he can’t figure out. “Uh…not to this,” he finally says, “Can’t dance sexy to this.”

Chris smiles, lifting himself and sauntering into the kitchen with his glass. “You don’t need to dance to be sexy, Seb.”

…Sebastian stares after him, zoning out at that helpful reminder that he’s hopelessly smitten with this man and literally any praise from him feels like a landslide of lava in his soul.

He takes a shot to keep the molten rock at bay.

The next couple hours consist of Chris nearly putting his foot through the glass in the coffee table on accident, Sebastian trying to get him to dance with him to Nicki Minaj (“ _One_  song. Jesus, c’mon it’s good for you…”), and both of them doing their fair share of drinking to the point where neither seem to remember why they started in the first place.

The leftovers from a couple nights ago have been rescued from the fridge, the two of them now huddled up on the couch and passing the container back and forth.

It’s this weird pastry thing with maple frosting/icing/glaze or something and Sebastian is just head over heels for it — for the little bites of flaky sweetness that’re like a slice of heaven in his mouth.

Chris catches on. And of course he uses it to fuck with him.

He holds a forkful of the pastry out for Sebastian a few times, Seb leaning forward and opening his mouth to take the offered bite until Chris pulls the fork away at the last second.

Seb’s drunk-reflexes are shit and at first he doesn’t understand what’s happening and why he doesn’t have pastry in his mouth — that is, until he looks over and Chris is smirking at him, clearly entertained with himself and his shenanigans.

Sebastian glares at him but goes for it again, whining when Chris pulls the fork away.

“Don’t be a dick,” he pouts, pushing petulantly at Chris’s leg, but secretly he’s got that little tingly thrill high in his chest that he gets whenever Chris teases him.

Chris takes the bite himself, dipping his finger into the icing on the rest of the pastry and then holding it out toward Seb. “Okay — I’m sorry, here.”

Because Sebastian is a slow learner when he’s at this level of being shitfaced, he leans in to lick the frosting off Chris’s finger, his mouth dropping open in astonishment when Chris presses forward and dabs his finger against the tip of Seb’s nose instead.

The icing is cold and sticky and everything smells like maple and Sebastian can’t stop the playful amusement that bubbles up in him as he sees Chris grin at him. “Don’t,” he whines, but his smile is unmistakable. “Stop teasing me.”

“Alright, alright.” Chris swipes his finger over the pastry again and then holds it out. “Here, you got it this time.”

Sebastian stares at him for a second, eyes narrowing, and then slowly leans forward.

The icing gets painted onto his cheek this time.

“ _Chris!”_

“Oh Seb we really gotta work on your aim, baby.”

“Fuckin’—” Sebastian reaches for the napkin that’s currently sitting on the side table by the candle. He wipes it over his face, not entirely too busy with getting the stickiness off his nose and cheek to miss the way his heart flips a little at the petname. “M’too drunk for this shit. My reflexes’re—can’t handle you right now.”

Chris chuckles in all his amusement, eyes sparkling with a smug lightheartedness that looks so good on him that Sebastian wonders what would happen if he was like this all the time. “Okay—” he nods, taking a moment to settle himself before holding his finger out one more time. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian stares at him, eyes narrowing dubiously as they flick between the icing on his finger and the suspicious grin that’s starting to stretch across his face.

“M’not gonna do it,” Chris says, his struggle to remain calm visible, “I promise.”

Sebastian is a slow learner when he’s drunk — it’s true — but he  _does_  catch on eventually. So when he leans in this time, he holds onto Chris’s wrist to steady his hand and then licks his tongue over the icing — once, twice, three times — until he decides that it’s better to just wrap his lips around Chris’s finger altogether.

Chris’s smile slowly drops as he watches Sebastian, his lips parting when Seb swirls his tongue around his finger, cheeks hollowing a bit as he sucks down to the knuckle.

The icing is gone — has been gone for a while now — and Sebastian’s not sure if it was even about the icing in the first place. When he pulls Chris’s hand closer, sucking his middle finger into his mouth as well, he realizes that it probably wasn’t.

Chris lets out a breath, Sebastian glancing up at him and keeping that eye-contact as he circles his tongue around both of his fingers, licking between them and then pulling off with a slick pop and a smirk.

That playful mood still lingers between them, but now it’s heavy and suggestive and it’s got Chris smirking too.

“Y’sure you got everything?”

Sebastian leans back against the arm of the couch, eyes trailing over the smooth skin and tight muscles peeking out from under Chris’s half-open dress shirt — the sinful curve of his bottom lip — the strong line of his jaw.

“You tell  _me_ , daddy.”

Chris swallows, his gaze narrowing curiously as he does a bit of his own sizing up.

It’s a heated gaze that lights every one of Seb’s nerves in the best way and all at once, and it makes him have to stand to get another drink.

The room spins on its axis as he gets to his feet, his body slumping against the arm of the couch for support.

“Whoa,” he hears Chris say, along with some muffled movement in his direction. “Y’alright?”

Sebastian blinks lazily, his eyelids heavy and brain swimming. “Mhm.”

“Maybe you’ve had enough.”

Chris’s words are finally filtering in at the right volume now — still teasing but now laced with real concern.

“M’fine,” Sebastian answers, getting his bearings before padding into the kitchen.

He sets his cup down a little too hard on the counter, surprised by how loud glass on marble really is as he fishes the bottle out from the cupboard.

His name is being called but his head is still spinning a little from getting up so he just focuses on making sure the majority of the liquid is getting into his glass.

That’s when he feels Chris come up behind him, voice steady: “Seb,” and he’s pressing against him and reaching around him and taking the bottle out of his hands. “Y’should probably be done, okay?”

Sebastian lets the bottle be taken away, not even concerned with his drink now that he’s got Chris’s body pressed up against him from behind. “…’kay.”

“You wanna come sit back down?” Chris asks gently, but he’s resting his cheek against the side of Seb’s head and talking low and sweet into his ear and he’s got his hands on Seb’s waist and there’s just no going back after that.

Sebastian hums, reaching back and running his fingers through the short bottom of Chris’s hair. “Rather stay here,” he answers softly, tipping his head away a bit and feeling that spark of pleasure when Chris follows, the telltale graze of his beard against the side of his neck sending sparks down his spine.

“What’s so great about the kitchen counter?” Chris asks lowly, and his hands are starting to move — running tauntingly slowly up and down Sebastian’s sides.

There’s a heat there. And a tingling and a buzz and it’s all just so much for him — Chris’s voice low and liquid smooth against his ear, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of his big hands fanning out over his sides — it’s a total sensory overload, and Sebastian rocks his ass back against him because he can’t fucking take it anymore.

It catches the older man off guard, a broken half-moan and warm breath ghosting over Sebastian’s neck.

Seb doesn’t know if it’s because he’s drunk, or if it’s because of what just happened on the couch, or if he’s just really fucking horny right now, but every bit of his conscience is urging him to press back against Chris’s sturdy warmth — solid and welcoming with the way it responds to him. He draws his bottom lip in with his teeth, trying to steady himself as he slowly rolls his ass back against him again, his fingers still brushing at the back of Chris’s hair.

Chris breathes out — more warm breath and the vibration of his deep voice counteracting the way his hands smooth out over Sebastian’s hips. “Jesus…”

“C’mon,” Seb murmurs, grinding against where Chris is so obviously getting hard behind him, trying to get something started and eyes fluttering closed as Chris presses the corner of his mouth against the sensitive skin just under his ear and hums. “C’mon.”

Chris’s hands are moving quicker now, running along Seb’s sides and one sliding underneath his shirt and mapping out the uncharted skin there. And all Sebastian wants is for it to go lower and lower until it dips under the waistline of his pants, but it doesn’t and it doesn’t and it doesn’t and Sebastian whines, pressing his ass against him in a devastatingly dirty sway and: “C’mon daddy, don’t you wanna fuck me?”

Chris curses, his lips moving against Sebastian’s neck.

And it’s not a ‘yes’ and it’s not a ‘no’ and: “ _Don’t_  you?”

“Fuck,” Chris breathes out, voice growing strained and breath getting heavier by the second. “You know I do.”

“Then do it.”

“Seb—… Now’s—not a good time—”

“Now’s a fuckin’  _great_  time,” Sebastian groans, because they finally know what they’re doing together and they’re both way past turned on and Sebastian’s rocking back into the fullest hard-on he’s ever felt with Chris and he’s just  _done_ fucking around so he reaches up, pulling the hand that isn’t under his shirt away from his waist and settling it over his own cock, hips bucking ever so slightly from the friction that’s long overdue and the heat of Chris’s hand seeping through his jeans and he just—

“C’mon,” he moans, turning his head to the side and up so he can face Chris, their lips hovering so closely together that it hurts. “Aren’t you gonna do somethin’ about this?” He keeps his hand over Chris’s, pressing both of them down over his hard-on and there’s that friction again and he rolls his hips back into the feeling.

Their mouths drop open, both reeling from different sensations but both feeling it with the same devastating accuracy.

And Chris’s voice is just fucking  _wrecked_.

“You’re making this really fucking hard for me, Seb.”

“I want you,” is Sebastian’s answer, rocking against him and licking his bottom lip and: “Want you to fuck me so bad.” It’s not even about the whole sugar daddy thing anymore. Sebastian wants this. Craves it in his very core. Has wanted it for much longer than he should have—

“We’re not—I’m not fucking you tonight.”

It detonates inside Sebastian like a fucking bomb, things shattering around him and his brow furrowing in confusion because  _surely_  he didn’t just hear that correctly, right?

…right?

Sebastian’s hand drops, Chris’s quickly following. “What?”

Chris takes a deep breath, whatever struggle is going on inside of him so palpable that Seb can feel it. “Seb…I want to. I  _want to_ , okay?”

Sebastian blinks, an ugly curl of resentment opening up in his gut as Chris continues.

“We’re way too plastered. Don’t—I’m not fucking up our first time because I can’t—can’t  _deal_  because we’re shitfaced. Got it?”

There’re a lot of words there. A lot of things to decipher and figure out and Sebastian just isn’t in the fucking mood to do any of that right now.

“D’you know how fucking  _frustrating_  you are?”

He knows it’s not the right thing to say and what Chris is saying probably makes a lot of sense if you’re not hopped up on adrenaline and vodka but his emotions are pulling him in about sixty seven different directions right now and one of those directions is the one where he  _really_ fucking needs to get off and he’s just—

“Seb…”

“It’s—we won’t fuck it up. We’ll be f—”

“— _Sebastian_ —”

“—ine, why the fuck won’t you just—”

“I’m not fucking you tonight! It’s not happening, okay? Get over it!”

Chris is yelling now, brow furrowed and angry and Sebastian doesn’t know how and when he got clear across to the other side of the kitchen but what he does know is he’s  _pissed_.

“Fine,” Seb snaps, angry and resentful and fucking embarrassed with himself about the fact that he’d still bend over for Chris this very second if he asked him to. But that’s not gonna happen and Chris looks like he’s realizing that he shouldn’t have yelled and Sebastian just starts his way down the hallway.

Chris isn’t following him.

“Sebastian.”

Chris isn’t following him.

“Sebastian, where’re you even going?”

Chris  _isn’t following him_.

“It’s fine,” Sebastian bites, wrenching open his bedroom door and yelling: “I’ll do it myself,” before slamming it shut.

He’s still painfully hard despite the fact that he wants to put his fist through a wall, and when he wraps his hand around his cock and starts jerking himself off he  _knows_  that’s he’s still gonna think of Chris and his body and his everything and the way he carries himself and the way he carries Seb and the way his body feels pressed up against Seb’s back, hands roaming and breath hot against his neck and voice deep and rough and—

When Sebastian comes, he comes harder than he’s ever came in his entire life.

When he comes, his mouth drops open and his toes curl and his entire body shakes.

When he comes, he moans Chris’s name as loud as he can and hopes to fucking God that Chris hears him and knows he’s missing out and knows Seb’s having a better time by himself than he ever would with him here.

Even if he knows full well that that last thing is a total fucking lie.

——————

The sunlight that filters through Sebastian’s eyelids is alarming.

More alarming than the feeling of the bedsheets that are pulled all the way up to his nose.

More alarming than the feeling of the mattress dipping down as someone sits on the edge beside him.

But not as alarming as remembering the shitshow that was last night.

Sebastian groans, burying his face in his pillow as he feels Chris’s hand lay gently against the small of his back.

“How ya feelin’, kid?”

“Mmph… D’you have a gun…?”

Chris sighs, quiet enough that it doesn’t bother either of their hangovers. “I put water and aspirin on the nightstand if you want it.”

Sebastian sighs and then turns his head, settling back onto the pillow so he can look at Chris. “Thanks.” He tugs the sheets down a bit, letting them rest over the curve of his waist.

Chris nods and then lets his hand fall onto the bed next to him, his tone serious. “Listen…I’m sorry for yelling at you last night. Things got out of hand and I kind of lost it…” his gaze drops. “Shouldn’t have yelled, though.”

Sebastian sighs, more and more memories cropping up by the second. “Well…I was being pushy. Like  _super_ pushy. And a gigantic dick. So…sorry about  _that_.”

There’s a moment where they both wallow in their self-created pity and despair, then Chris pushes forward.

“Hey,” he says, brushing his fingers against Sebastian’s bare arm to get his attention. When their eyes meet, he smiles softly. “Soon, okay?”

And he doesn’t even need to specify for Sebastian to know what he’s talking about — for that little bubble of anticipation to form in his chest again. “Okay.”

Chris smiles, patting his shoulder gently before beginning to stand.

“Hey,” Sebastian says before he can get up all the way, propping himself up on his elbow and staring up at him with his best sad-puppy look. “D’you maybe wanna stay for a little bit? We could sleep off our hangovers together.”

The amused grin that stretches across Chris’s face is a good sign, made even better when he sighs over dramatically and makes a big production out of climbing over Sebastian’s body and then sliding under the covers next to him.

“I  _guess_  my run can wait for a few hours.”

Sebastian grumbles, turning over so he can slot himself up against Chris’s body and throw an arm and a leg over him like a lazy koala. “Your runs can wait for forever.”

——————

Turns out, Chris’s run waits for more than a few hours. It’s not exactly  _forever_ , but they sleep well into the day and it’s 3:00 in the afternoon the next time Sebastian opens his eyes, still snuggled close to Chris.

The older man stirs with a yawn when Seb moves to check his phone.

“Fuck,” he sighs, scrolling through a string of missed calls and texts.

“Whasswrong,” Chris asks lazily, still coming out of the haze of sleep as he stretches his arms over his head.

“I’m supposed to be hanging out with Chace,” Sebastian explains, the guilt spreading when the texts clue him into the fact that his friend had been waiting for him in his car outside of Chris’s flat for fifteen minutes, trying to get a hold of him.

“Want me to drop you off at his place?”

Sebastian rolls out of bed — “Nah, it’s fine.” — and then pulls a clean pair of jeans on. “He’ll be pissy for like five minutes but then he’ll get over it.”

Chris makes a quiet noise of empathetic understanding, rising out of bed as well. “You know best.”

After shooting Chace a text, Sebastian slips a shirt on and spots Chris making his way to the door in the mirror. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he says honestly, Chris’s reflection stilling, “but I’m actually really glad we didn’t fuck last night.”

Chris looks up at him, not far enough away for Seb to miss the look of surprised curiosity. “You are?”

The pleasant surprise of it makes Sebastian smile — warm and honest and confident. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s definitely something I’m gonna wanna remember every minute of.”

Chris watches him for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s being a sarcastic little shit or not, but then he simply grins — “Glad to hear it…” — and disappears out the door.

——————

Sebastian is right. Chace is pissy for exactly 5 minutes and 32 seconds before he returns to normal functioning and insists that they listen to this new song that he discovered. (Sebastian uses the timer on his phone, if not to prove something to himself, then to at least show Chris when he gets home in hopes that it’ll make him laugh.)

“Hey, so listen…” Chace says after a while, eyes purposely staying on the road even as his tone drops into something careful.

“What?” When he doesn’t get an answer, Sebastian glances over —  _knows_  that voice. “Chace, what?”

His friend taps his fingers against the steering wheel — a nervous habit. “I actually uh…I hooked up with this one girl a couple nights ago.”

He says it with a kind of calculated honesty that Sebastian has learned comes hand and hand with these talks.

Seb nods, lips pressing into a line as he looks out the window and then back out front. “That’s cool, man.”

Chace is silent for a moment, then he glances over, confirming. “Yeah?”

He’s still watching him when Sebastian does the same — “Yeah, dude.” — a dull wave washing over his heart right on cue. It’ll be gone soon. “Do I know her?”

“Nah.”

“Are you gonna see her again?”

Chace frowns. Shakes his head. “Probably not.”

It’ll be gone sooner than Seb thought.

“We should grab something to eat,” Chace suggests, and then he’s launching into some other tangential direction and Sebastian’s left to return to normal as he does so.

They get burgers, Sebastian slipping back into his old ways and convincing the woman at the register that he’s got a little sister that he needs a kids meal for, even as Chace nudges him from behind, which loosely translates into “you really don’t have to do that — it’s only a few dollars less.” But Sebastian gets his kids meal  _and_  also gets this Ninja Turtles toy that’ll probably be a fucking blast to mess with the next time he and Chris get high, so he keeps it.

They talk about school. About midterms coming up. They specifically don’t talk about Chris or the girl Chace hooked up with or the fact that Seb is in an honest to God sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship as they speak. They don’t talk about a lot of things — things they probably  _should_  talk about but don’t all the same.

Chace drives him home just as the sun is starting to set, pulling away as Sebastian walks up to the front door of the flat.

He only notices the other car in the driveway when the door opens from the other side, nearly wrenching the key out of Sebastian’s hand and revealing one _beyond_  flustered-looked Chris.

He’s got the door only halfway open, his body blocking the rest and his eyes wide and brows raised and  _“What’re you doing?”_  he hisses frantically, his voice dropped low in a whisper.  _“Didn’t you check your phone?”_

Sebastian doesn’t even have time to scramble up some sort of ‘no, I guess it’s still on silent from when we were napping’ before there’s a female voice appearing from behind Chris, saying God knows what, and then she’s popping her face around Chris’s shoulder right as Sebastian’s got his phone fished out of his pocket and the text pulled up and—

“Oh Chris, who’s this sweet little boy?”

_oh my god dont come home my mom just showed up_

Sebastian’s stomach sinks a little, heat rising to his cheeks for no discernible reason as Chris slaps on a smile and lies straight through his fucking teeth.

“Oh, this is Sebastian, Ma. He lives next door.”

He says it with what sounds like not enough confidence probably but Sebastian is still busy trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s currently face to face with his sugar daddy’s mother.

And how the hell is he supposed to explain the fact that he’s standing here opening the front door with a key like it’s no big deal when he’s just a kid living next door?

Chris seems to be on a similar train of thought. “Thanks for taking care of my place while I was gone, man,” he smiles tightly. “The plants really needed that water.”

“Where were you gone to, dear?” Mrs. Evans asks before Sebastian has time to flounder.

“Oh uh…I was down meeting with that one woman in London for a couple nights. Talking over the floor plans and everything. I told you about that, didn’t I?” Damn, Chris is solid at making shit up on the spot.

“It sounds familiar, sweetie,” his mother smiles proudly, patting him on the back like Sebastian supposes mothers do. “I didn’t know you had plants, though. Where’re they hiding? They probably aren’t getting enough light.”

“Uh, so here’s your key. I’ve actually gotta head back,” Sebastian intervenes, holding the key out and smiling as Chris takes it, the silent appreciation screaming from those normally composed blue eyes speaking volumes. “I’ll see you around, Chris. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Have you eaten dinner yet, sweetie?” Mrs. Evans asks before he can even turn around. “You can stay if you like.”

Sebastian and Chris are both silent for a breath, their eyes meeting, and then they seem to have their own internalized mini freak out, both speaking at once — a tousled mess of “Oh, thanks but I really have to get home.” and “I’m sure he’s got homework and stuff to do, right?”

It’s awkward and messy but Mrs. Evans is pure sunshine so she just raises her eyebrows invitingly, her voice sashaying into this sweet little singsongy thing as she says: “There’s a whole pan of lasagna in the oven and a chocolate bunt cake on the counter.”

Sebastian’s taste buds kick in, his mouth  _actually_  watering just from the knowledge that those things are in the flat right now and he could technically be partaking a little, even if he did just eat with Chace a short while ago.

“Ma, he said he has to go home,” Chris answers gently for him, seeing that Seb is apparently too lost in thought to do it himself. “Some other time, okay?”

Sebastian smiles guiltily, his shoulders raising a bit with his lopsided grin that has Mrs. Evans cooing over him with a fond little “ _Gosh_ you’re sweet,” and then reaching out to pinch his cheek.  _Pinch his cheek._  This woman is the token mother that puts those perfect fairy tale mothers to goddamn shame.

“Maybe…” Sebastian starts, and he can already see the sudden panic-stricken look that flashes across Chris’s face from behind his mother as he speaks, “…maybe I can stay for just a  _little_  bit.”

Mrs. Evans explodes with happiness — confetti, hearts, cute fuzzy animals emerging from the forest to serenade them with a song — the whole nine yards.

Chris looks like he’s gonna have a heart attack behind her as she disappears into the house, throwing him a look that shouldn’t be funny but kind of is as Sebastian follows, his hand coming to rest briefly on Seb’s back as he follows through the door.

Chris’s mother is an adorable little thing — full cheeks and welcoming smiles and eyes that probably sparkle with excitement like that even when nothing particularly exciting is happening. She’s sweet in the way that she seems interested in what Seb has to say — is motherly in how she shuffles around Chris’s flat checking the lasagna in the oven and making sure everyone is comfortable and “Jeeze Ma, will you sit down?  _I’m_  the one who’s supposed to be fussing over  _you,_ remember?”

Seb’s not sure if he’s felt this awkwardly happy in his entire life. He feels more at home with his sugar daddy and his sugar daddy’s mother than he does in his actual house. It’s just something about her presence.

The lasagna is finished before Sebastian barely has time to try and pretend like he doesn’t know where literally everything in this house is and how it works (see also: acting like he hasn’t been living here for a few months now). He opens the closet that Chris asks  _him specifically_  to get a table cloth out of and sees the school books that he left out on the coffee table this morning tossed haphazardly in the bottom. His hoodie is there too. And so are a number of other things that were left out in the open and obviously needed to be quickly stowed away to prevent questions.

When Sebastian brings him the table cloth, Chris is looking awkward and stiff as he moves around his mother in the kitchen, setting the table for three with this look of grave concern on his face when he thinks no one’s looking.

But Sebastian’s always looking.

They sit down to eat.

“So what is it that you’re studying, sweetie?”

Sebastian’s currently got a mouthful of lasagna and is now trying not to make a big deal out of chewing too quickly so he can answer her, but it’s not going so great so he just discreetly covers his mouth with the back of his hand and mumbles through the bite as politely as possible: “Graphic design.”

She’s thrilled, the bracelets around her wrists clacking together as she gestures excitedly. “Oh! More artsy people. It’s no wonder Christopher picked you to watch over his things while you were gone. You two are two of a kind.”

Sebastian smiles shyly, a small pang of guilt flooding over him as he’s reminded of their lie. It’s quickly replaced by the sudden urge to please. “I’m graduating in March.” It takes him by surprise, this want to impress her— almost like he just wants to make her proud—

“Graduating! That’s so exciting for you!” She’s reaching over the table now, her hand coming down to take his and squeeze enthusiastically. “Soon you’ll be off in the big world doing important things and making a name for yourself!”

Sebastian’s smile fades just a touch, his eyes flicking over to Chris’s out of habit. When their eyes meet, he gives Seb a reserved little grin — kind and honest but bittersweet. They still haven’t revisited their talk about what’s happening after graduation.

“How’s dad?” Chris asks after a long beat of silence that Sebastian can feel in his soul.

“He’s fine, sweetheart. You know your father. Always trying to find something new to do that’ll give me a heart attack.” She scoops another helping of lasagna onto Sebastian’s plate just as he shovels in the last bit, his mouth stilling mid-bite as he takes a second to realize what’s just happened. “Speaking of which, Tina’s got another girlfriend. She’s so sweet — you really should meet her.”

Chris makes an interested noise, nodding as he swallows a generous mouthful of wine. He looks like he’s about to say something when she turns to Sebastian.

“Are you seeing anyone, sweetie?”

Sebastian’s brow furrows lightly at the question, eyes flicking over to Chris’s _again._

_‘Yes, your son,’_ he wants to say, but he knows it would produce more than a handful of dire consequences. So he goes with a shy little: “Uh…no, not right now,” instead.

“What?” Mrs. Evans is flabbergasted. “How is that possible? You’re such a little cutie!”

The praise seeps into his heart at an alarming rate and it makes Seb’s insides feel all warm. He glances down at the lasagna on his plate, his lips curling in a sheepish grin. “Uh…I dunno.”

He doesn’t dare look at Chris. Not right now. Not again.

She’s speaking again without missing a beat anyway. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Someone’ll snatch you up before you know it. That’s what I’ve been telling Chris too, ever since Julie left—”

“Ma.” Chris’s voice interrupts with point-blank accuracy, so suddenly serious that it rips through the lighthearted atmosphere and strikes a frightening sense of surprised dread in Sebastian’s gut.

His mother glances over at Chris, taken aback by the gravity of his tone. “What, Christopher? He lives next door to you — I’m sure he knows a—”

“Not right now,” Chris articulates, steady and without breaking eye contact for even one second. “Not right now, okay? Please?” It’s all very serious, very sudden, and it’s got this sour wave of impending doom about things not discussed washing over them.

Mrs. Evans looks confused. Lost.

Suddenly Sebastian’s not very hungry.

When he chances a peek over at Chris, he’s just sitting there, eyes shut and hand closed into a fist as he takes a second.

They move on to talk about something else very quickly.

Chris bounces back but not all the way.

——————

When Mrs. Evans leaves, she throws her purse over her shoulder and hugs Sebastian like he’s one of her kids — warm and full and so comforting that Seb actually feels his soul getting lighter and has trouble letting go.

When Mrs. Evans leaves, she whispers things to Chris in the doorway — things Sebastian can’t understand. But Chris’s whisper never  _was_ the best and Seb catches snippets of “it’s okay” and “no it’s fine, Ma” and “you didn’t know, it’s alright. I love ya. Let me know when you get home”.

When Mrs. Evans leaves, Sebastian has about fifteen hundred things buzzing around in his brain at once. All things he wants to ask Chris. But he sees the look on the older man’s face and he can’t bring himself to ask so the only thing he says is: “Wow, I officially love your mom.”

Chris smiles, like the sun is just beginning to filter through the clouds after a relentless storm. Like they just barely dodged a bullet — a shallow break across their skin but not too worse for wear. “I think she officially loves you more.”

——————

Chris falls asleep on the couch that night, chest rising calmly and expression finally settling into something relaxed. He falls asleep sitting up, and Sebastian feels the heavy tug of tiredness pulling at him as well. So he wearily climbs into his lap, pleased when Chris shifts just enough out of his dream to hold onto him and bring them both to the side until they’re laying down, Chris on his back and Sebastian now snug on top of him. Chris keeps his hold on him — one hand low on his back and the other just a little higher — and Seb falls asleep with his head on his chest, their bodies lit by the flickering glow of the TV.

It’s nice.

And comforting.

Everything is calm and sweet between them again.

Until it’s not.

—————

The door crashes open on its hinges as Chris stalks into the flat, moving quickly and swinging his volleyball bag towards the couch and Sebastian close behind, the air thick with the electric pulse of the day’s dynamic turning completely on its head.

“What did I ask you to do?” Chris’s voice is stern and authoritative and it goes straight to Sebastian’s pants so quickly that it’s not even funny.

“Not go to your practice,” he answers obediently, his stomach warm with arousal just from the way Chris is carrying himself — the way his brows are drawing together in a scowl that Sebastian isn’t used to, because this is only the second time they’ve done this and he and Chris have never gone this hard before and there’s just something about it that has Sebastian’s excitement soaring.

“And what did you do anyway?”

Sebastian stumbles, “I just wanted to see—”

“What’d I tell you is gonna happen if you don’t listen?”

Sebastian swallows. Doesn’t say anything.

Chris has brought his fucking A-game.

“Over the table.”

It’s not a request. It’s an order. And Sebastian always follows orders when there are rewards thinly disguised as punishments up for grabs.

He leans over the kitchen table, arms drawn in and his ass pointing in the air — he presents himself just like he’s asked to but Chris doesn’t move over toward him.

“Pants down,” he commands instead, the order doing a great job at going off in Sebastian like an atomic bomb.

Because they didn’t do that last time. Sebastian’s never been out of his clothes in front of Chris before except for those brief moments between sleep and getting ready for the day. And this…this is not that.

Sebastian’s hands drop to his belt, the not so subtle clanking of metal against metal sounding about six times louder than it should be with his senses all hyped up like this. But he unhooks and unbuttons and unzips and then lets the denim slide down his thighs, his cheek still pressed into the table.

That’s when his stomach lurches a little bit. Because that’s when Chris says: “ _All_ of it.”

The new command floats in the space between them for a moment, hanging tensely against it as neither of them move.

Then Sebastian lifts his head — looks back and meets blue eyes that are still blazing with lust, but also something that looks a lot like caution. Question. A silent “if you want to” that helps soothe over the small rush of nerves that’s currently sweeping through Sebastian’s gut.

But he does. He  _does_  want to — craves the feeling of skin on skin and that harsh sting so badly that he hooks his fingers in the elastic of his dark briefs right then and there, slowly dragging them down over the curve of his ass without looking away.

His skin prickles from the chilled air in the room and the thrill of Chris’s eyes sweeping over his bare ass — interest piqued and gaze hungry as he takes it all in.

Then Chris steps forward, all the intensity that he had entered the flat with returning.

“Ten spanks,” he says firmly, Sebastian moving his head back to face the wall. “Count ‘em out.”

Sebastian fidgets, already unapologetically hard under the table.

“Did you hear me?” Chris snaps.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Seb’s eyes drop shut, his entire body flooding with ache and want and  _need_ and _fuck_  he could probably get off just from the fact that he can say that shit as much as he wants now.

And now Chris is just fucking with him — drawing it out. “Are you gonna be good?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Gonna count them out loud?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Gonna tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

Sebastian squirms, the heat of Chris’s hand so close to his ass that he could probably meet him halfway if he just tilted his hips back. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy,” Chris says, and Sebastian doesn’t even have a chance to acknowledge how that fucks him up in the best way before Chris is shifting behind him and bringing his hand down, cracking it across his left ass cheek so hard that Sebastian’s knees actually go weak from the surprise of it.

“ _Fuck_ —” he cries out, too caught off his game to stop himself.

Chris brings his hand back down again, but this time it’s to slowly smooth his fingers over the curve of his ass — gentle — soothing — maddeningly luring him into what he’s almost positive is a false sense of security but—

“How much is that?” Chris is startlingly calm.

Sebastian finds his voice. “One.”

“Good boy.”

The next swat isn’t as hard, or maybe it is, Sebastian doesn’t know because he’s currently pressing his forehead into the cool wood of the kitchen table as number three comes without warning.

A breathy whimper falls from his lips, his fists clenching and unclenching and—

“Count, baby.”

“Th…three…”

Sebastian shifts his weight, his ass swaying ever so slightly, but number four hits home with devastating accuracy regardless.

“Hhh fu—…four…” Seb breathes out, his eyes dropping closed again as Chris’s hand smooths over his heated skin.

“What should you do next time?” Chris’s voice is both right up against him and very far away, fading in and out as his hand brushes over to the other cheek. “Huh? Who should you listen to, Sebastian?”

Seb wets his lips, taking a shaky breath before answering obediently. “You, daddy.”

His ass stings already, a nice solid burn that’d have him rocking into something to relieve the tension if there was something besides open air under the table.

“That’s right,” Chris confirms lowly, a finger trailing up to Sebastian’s tailbone and then slowly tracing down his ass crack so lightly that Seb finds himself pressing back into it. “Who knows what’s best for you?”

“Y—you do.”

“I  _what_?”

His finger drops away too soon and Sebastian whines, already touch-starved. “Daddy knows best.”

It’s absolutely the right thing to say because Chris’s hand is cracking against his right cheek without further warning, Sebastian no better at containing his need to cry out than the first time.

“Count,” Chris commands, and the next string of spanks is something that Sebastian is 100% not prepared for.

“Five,” he grunts, not given any time to come down from the sting before the next crack, “S-six…sev— _ah eight, nine—te-ahhfuck—_ ”

“Say it or it doesn’t count.”

“Ten,” Sebastian grits out, his breath ragged and brow sweaty and face red and—

“Did you learn your lesson? Or do you need ten more?”

It’s the perfect choice — the perfect out that Sebastian doesn’t even think about before shifting and huffing: “Ten more, please.”

Chris doesn’t give him a chance to settle — just fucking cracks his hand flat across Sebastian’s ass in a rapid-fire succession that has Seb’s eyes squeezing shut and mouth dropping open and back arching higher and higher as a long pained moan rips through him and—

“ _Fuck!_ ” Sebastian’s pulling off to the side right as number ten stings against his skin.

His ass is on fire and the pain is so good and his eyes are wet but he turns toward Chris anyway, stumbling from his pants around his ankles. But Chris is looking at him like he’s the only thing that matters and that’s all they need for both of them to pitch forward, coming together in a sloppy collision of lips and tongue and Sebastian feels like he’s about to jump out of his fucking skin.

Chris grips under his arms and lifts him up onto the table so Seb can kick his pants off — something easier said than done when he’s got Chris biting at his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue over it and _—_

_“Fuck_ …Chris—”

“I know,” is what his answer is, large hands running over Seb’s sides, “I know, baby.” And then he’s lifting Sebastian again, this time high enough for the younger man to wrap his legs around his waist as they clumsily start making their way down the hallway.

Chris’s back slams into the wall as he loses balance, Sebastian’s fingers coming up to thread through his hair and pull a little as he licks into his mouth, but Chris keeps moving — pulls himself off the wall and through the door and then those hands are under Seb’s arms again and Seb groans as he’s dropped not so gingerly onto the bed.

The scramble to get rid of clothes is fucking  _unreal,_ Chris reaching down to pull Seb’s shirt over his head and Seb getting his fingers under those goddamn volleyball shorts and they  _do_ it — they fucking  _do_ it — but there’s a tearing noise and someone’s shirt gets chucked halfway across the room and in the whole grand scheme of things, neither of them give one single fuck because they’re both panting and hard and Chris is naked on top of him and Sebastian’s pretty sure he’s gonna pass out from how goddamn hot this man is.

He reaches up, hands immediately pouring over the lines of tight muscle in Chris’s chest — his abs — his back.

“ _Fuck_  you’re so unfair,” Sebastian groans, promising himself that after this he’s gonna dedicate a night to mapping out these lines with his mouth.

Chris shuts him up with a kiss that Seb feels all the way down to his toes, one hand coming up to cup at Seb’s jaw as he presses his hips down, their cocks sliding against each other with this delicious friction that’s so long overdue that Seb fucking  _whimpers_ into his mouth.

His hips buck as Chris reaches between them, wrapping his hand around both of them and flicking his wrist so agonizingly perfect that Sebastian has to break away from the kiss, gasping and hands pushing and “ _Fuck_ , wait—wait m’too close already.”

There’s a slight possibility that he should be embarrassed by how quickly he’s ready to come, but he  _was_  just bent over the kitchen table getting spanked within an inch of his short life, and he’s not afraid to do what he has to in order to keep from finishing too early.

Chris seems just fine with that, opting instead to lean over and pull out the drawer in his nightstand, his hand disappearing inside for only a moment before returning. And if Sebastian was having trouble wrapping his mind around what they’re about to do before, the addition of three condoms and a bottle of lube on the bed  _definitely_  makes things loud and clear.

Chris’s gonna fuck the hell out of him.

“Done this before?” Chris breathes out, voice heavy as he leans down to slot his lips back against Seb’s.

Sebastian maybe gets lost in it a little before answering — in the steady burn of Chris’s lips kissing down the line of his jaw and then back up again. “Mm—mhm.”

Truth is he’s done it quite a few times, granted a lot of those times were with the same person, but it doesn’t matter because no one’s gonna compare to Chris — to strong arms and authoritative hands and the biggest cock Seb’s ever laid eyes on in all his twenty years of walking this earth—

“Turn for me, baby.”

Chris is sitting up and patting Seb’s thigh when he zones back in. And Sebastian knows exactly where this is going so he does as he’s asked — flips over on his stomach and props himself up on his knees so his ass is ready for Chris and he doesn’t even  _care_  about being modest anymore — not when there’s the sound of a cap clicking open behind him.

“Oh baby,” Chris murmurs softly — pride loosely masked as sympathy as his fingers brush over Sebastian’s ass — the stretches of flushed burn that stand out against pale skin even in this light. Sebastian wonders for one blessed moment if he’s got handprints. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah—”

“Hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

There’s movement behind him. The telltale sound of a bottle being squeezed. “You like it though, don’t you? Like it when you get punished…”

Sebastian breathes in sharply when the slick coldness of the lube is circled around his asshole (a sensation he hasn’t felt for longer than he’d like to admit). “Oh-ho  _fuck_.” Chris’s finger teases at him, just barely pushing in. It turns speaking into an Olympic sport. “Yea—oh… Yes… …yes, daddy.”

Chris hums behind him, deep and low as he leans in and presses his lips just above Sebastian’s tailbone. “Gonna let me open you up?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Gonna tell me what you want?”

Sebastian bites his bottom lip. It’s a stall-tactic again. And it’s making him feel like he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin with anticipation. “ _Yes_ , daddy.”

“Good boy.”

And Sebastian should expect it — should realize that these are the same exact steps from being spanked in the kitchen — but he’s too flustered to catch on. So when Chris tips forward and eases his finger to the knuckle inside of him, it’s like fireworks exploding in Seb’s core.

“ _Ohh_ oh my God…”

Chris says something behind him but all Sebastian can focus on is the tight burn and the hand on his back and the deep deep  _deep_ arousal that’s blossoming low in his gut as Chris slowly moves his finger.

Chris must realize he’s having an existential crisis in his head because he doesn’t push him to answer, just keeps moving his finger and spreading his hand across Seb’s back.

And time turns into this relative thing that blurs into something inconceivable, Seb realizes. Especially when you’ve got the hottest man in the universe above you and that one finger turns into two and no matter how hard you bury your face into his pillow, those noises that you think you’re doing a great job at smothering are actually louder than you think.

“Wanna see you,” he breathes out. And he only has to say it once before Chris is pulling his fingers out and Sebastian is scrambling to turn onto his back, his eyes squeezing shut when they slide back in. “Oh fuck…”

But now he can open his eyes and look up and see just how quickly Chris seems to be losing his cool too — the exact opposite of what Seb expects judging from the smooth thrusts of his fingers and the kisses he had been leaving on the small of his back.

On the contrary, Chris is struggling — pupils blown and bottom lip bitten and brow furrowed as his eyes sweep over Sebastian’s body beneath him. Like he wants this just as badly.

Sebastian reaches up, grabbing behind Chris’s neck and pulling him down on top of him so he can crash their lips together because it’s all so much and he needs a fucking anchor before he goes off the deep end.

The new angle has Chris’s fingers doing something different — brushing up against something that has Sebastian’s mouth dropping open, accompanied by a string of phrases that bypass his brain and just fall out without thought.

It’s too much. It’s too much it’s too much it’s too—

“Fuck me,” he groans, high pitched and needy. “Please fuck me—please, Chris—”

He doesn’t even care that he sounds like he’s falling apart because he  _is_. This is a long time coming and honestly he never thought he’d actually be here, in Chris’s bed, stretched out and begging underneath him as Chris reaches over for the bottle again and runs his hand over his cock like he has no idea how fucking  _sexy_ he is.

Sebastian takes a deep breath — tries to get his heart to at least stop feeling like it’s going to burst out of his chest — reaches out and grabs at Chris’s arm when he leans back down like it was unbearable to be without him for even one second.

Then Chris looks down at him — clear blue meeting burning grey — and he rests a hand over Sebastian’s hip and the side of his neck and then lines himself up and pushes himself inside.

Sebastian blanks, heat washing over his entire body in waves — not sure if he’s still alive and also not entirely sure what year they’re in but he  _does_ know that Chris is still staring down at him, lips parted and breath shaky as he waits for some sort of go ahead.

Sebastian doesn’t know what the fuck he wants so he tilts his hips forward, gets the friction he craves like that instead until Chris gets with the program and slowly starts up a rhythm. It’s agonizingly cautious and unhurried and Seb kinda gets it but: “ _Fuck_  you don’t have to be gentle—don’t be gentle,” because now is not the time for inhibition or doing something half assed.

Chris chuckles, dark and gravely. “You sure you want that?”

And Sebastian just stares him straight in the eye, a grin curling against his lips. “Fuck me the way  _you_  wanna fuck me, daddy.”

He knows it’s the right thing to say. Knows it with the way Chris’s eyes grow dark and his tongue glides over his bottom lip and his hand drops from Sebastian’s neck to grab his other hip, lifting Sebastian’s entire lower half until his knees swing over Chris’s shoulders. Knows it with the way one of Chris’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement — “Whatever you say, baby.” — and then he’s sinking back in, the angle of it spot on and unapologetic and  _entirely_ too fucking perfect.

Sebastian’s head collapses back against the pillow, his back arching off the bed as Chris quickly picks up speed, one hand spreading over his side again and the other running down his leg. There’s heat and electricity and pleasure points detonating inside Sebastian’s body and he can’t help but just let it out — string a whole slur of half-words and curses and “daddy”s together as Chris snaps his hips into him at an intensity that shows just how fucking  _bad_ he wants this too.

“Fff—oh God,” Sebastian pants, grabbing desperately at the hand that’s still holding his waist because he can feel that heat starting to pool low in his gut and— “Fuck—m’not gonna last long.” Not with the way Chris is moving against him, all liquid smooth and determined and fucking gorgeous — the slick sheen of sweat making Sebastian want to run his hands against his abs all over again and—

“You gonna come for me?” Chris’s voice is perfectly wrecked. “Gonna come for me, baby boy?”

Sebastian fucking  _loses_  it — swears to God he had it mostly under control but _fuck_  not after Chris decides to throw that at him. He tenses, his brow furrowing and mouth dropping open and Chris reaches down to palm at his cock and it’s all over. It’s all fucking over.

He comes with a moan that’s so loud he surprises himself, his fingernails digging into Chris’s wrist as his body tenses with waves of pleasure that sweep through him like nothing he’s ever felt before but it’s  _good_. It’s  _so fucking good._ And Chris’s eyes are dropping shut and his hips are stilling and Sebastian isn’t sure if it’s possible to drag your orgasm out by a few more seconds from watching something as devastatingly hot as Chris losing himself as he comes, but if you can, he definitely does.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes out after a moment, his head still dropped forward and eyes still shut.

Sebastian thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

It takes them a few more moments to come down off the high, hands still roaming and chests heaving and faces red and bodies sweaty.

Sebastian’s the first one to talk.

“Can’t believe after all that I didn’t get to suck your cock.”

It’s a joke. A wrecked, breathy, ‘I know we just came but I’m still fucking horny’ joke.

Chris chuckles softly and rolls over him, bringing Seb with so he can lay on top. He runs a finger feather-light down his spine and then settles a hand over one of his ass cheeks. “The night’s still young, baby.”


	10. Chapter 10

They use the other two condoms that night and Sebastian is fairly certain he’s died and gone to heaven — thrilled to know first hand that heaven consists of one Chris Evans (hot and sweaty and glorious) touching him and turning him and taking him in as many different ways as they can think of because it was a long time coming and they couldn’t exactly stop themselves once they started.

Sebastian wakes up physically drained and a little sore but not too worse for wear, especially since he’s got Chris’s arm slung over him, his hand spread out over his chest.

And there’s a heavy sense of deep deep satisfaction that Seb can feel in his bones.

——————

“So apparently my mother’s coming over again today.”

Sebastian looks up from where he’s currently balls-deep in homework on the floor. “Do you think you could gimme a ride to Chace’s then? His car’s actin’ up.”

“Actually,” Chris’s tone is light but there’s something hidden there, “she was wondering if you’d be here again.”

Sebastian sets his pencil down, a tiny wisp of delight flittering in his chest. “What?”

“Yeah,” he offers half a smile, like he’s having trouble with the concept himself. “She thinks you’re the cutest thing on this planet. I don’t know where she got  _that_  idea.”

Sebastian blinks, the grin that’s spreading across his face impossible to stow away because… “Really?”

“I mean…don’t feel pressured to be here. I can still drop you off if you wa—”

“No, I’ll— I can stay.” He knows he’s probably coming off as a little too excited, but the way his whole heart lit up the last time he saw Mrs. Evans is undeniable. And so is the knowledge of that feeling returning. “I uh—well like, I’d have to pretend to come here again, right?”

“Yeah. But at least this time I won’t be throwing all your shit in the closet last minute.” Chris says it with an exasperated quirk of his lips.

Sebastian offers a sheepish grin, the image of Chris scurrying about the living room and trying to hide all of his stuff making him feel just a touch guilty. “Sorry…I’ll make sure everything’s cleaned up this time.”

He gets an amused roll of the eyes as a response. “Mhm. That includes the pair of boxers that you decided to leave by the front door.”

Sebastian’s eyes flick over to his underwear that are  _indeed_ still chilling over on the welcome mat. Then he throws Chris a knowing look, eyebrows raising a bit. “Technically,  _you_  decided to leave them by the front door.”

But Chris just sidesteps around them, coffee mug in hand as he starts to make his way down the hallway. “All I did was take them off. After that, they’re no longer my responsibility.”

—————

Mrs. Evans arrives with bells on, Sebastian assumes. He wouldn’t really know, see, because he chills out behind the house for a few minutes before making his grand entrance — ringing the doorbell and stepping awkwardly into the flat and realizing that she isn’t even in the room when Chris opens the door with a worn out grin, eyes rolling and head shaking like ‘ _well, at least we had a plan and stuck with it’_.

Sebastian is halfway through whispering something to him when an overjoyed “Ah, there you are!” interrupts them.

He draws his gaze from Chris over to where Mrs. Evans is shuffling into the room, beaming as her arms stretch out towards him in welcome.

Sebastian can’t help the full bodied smile that bubbles up as he leans down just a touch to meet her halfway — “Hi…” — her hug just as warm and safe and secure as it was half a week ago. “Nice to see you again.”

She coos over him and launches into conversation like it isn’t only the second time they’ve met, and if Sebastian wasn’t totally swept up in floundering and blushing at sweepingly motherly compliments and observations, he’d see the way Chris watches them — contemplates — stands back and just silently takes it in.

They have lunch and nice conversation and Seb accidentally kicks Chris’s shin under the table, but Chris just takes another bite, attention everywhere but on him as he casually rubs the top of his foot over Seb’s calf as acceptance of his silent apology, their affection hidden beneath the table.

He gets a call right as they finish eating, excusing himself as Sebastian and his mother start bringing the dishes over to the sink. And Sebastian supposes he should feel awkward about being alone with her — being alone with the  _mother of his sugar daddy_  — but he’s not.

Not that he’s given much time to anyway.

“How’s school going, sweetheart?” She’s already wrist-deep in soap bubbles, a plate already submerged into the froth to be cleaned.

Sebastian nods, bringing over the empty serving bowl from the table. “It’s good.” But that doesn’t seem like enough. So he reaches for something else to say. “Uh…I had a critique for a company design project yesterday.”

The spray of the faucet cascades down the now clean plate, Mrs. Evans’s face lighting up with interest. “Did you? How’d it go?”

“Really well, actually,” Sebastian answers with a small, humble grin, his eyes glossing over the bowl in his hands as he sets it down next to the sink. “My proff wants to use it on the university website as like a…a showcase sorta thing that people can look at.”

And he swears to God, it’s like he just told her that he’s getting married or something, because the look of absolute sunny pride that dances over her face is out of this world. “Sebastian!” she coos with a lighthearted elbow to his side, her hands still soapy, “That’s incredible! Good for you!”

Seb glances over at her but finds he can’t keep the eye contact, that orb of warm giddiness bubbling up inside of him as the corners of his mouth begin to curl into a shy smile. “Thanks…”

“Oh, be happy for yourself, honey,” she beams again, taking the bowl from him and dunking it into the water. “I’m sure they didn’t ask for anyone  _else’s_ work from your class to be on the website, right?”

Sebastian taps his fingers on the counter. “No…”

“So there you go!” She’s scrubbing away at the bottom of the bowl, but somehow that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s practically exuding good vibes from her spot at the sink. “You have so much to be excited about for yourself. You’re young and you’re sweet and you’re taking the world by storm with your designs and  _pretty soon_ ,” she leans over a little and drops her voice like it’s some big secret, “you’ll be graduating and a whole world of opportunities will be at your fingertips. Right?”

Sebastian can’t stop the grin still tugging at his lips. “Right…”

Mrs. Evans rinses the soap suds from the bowl and leaves it to dry on the wrack, taking the next plate that Seb hands her. Then, in a far-off hum, she says, “Oh sweetie…your mother must be so proud of you.”

And it’s like every good vibe that just built itself up in Sebastian’s core comes crashing down, shattered and disappointingly obliterated and —

He clears his throat, his smile dropping, not sure how to dodge this particular bullet that’s been lodged up against his heart for a few years now. “Uh…”

Another beat of uncomfortable silence passes and then Mrs. Evans glances over to him, her hands stilling in the water. “Uh oh… Looks like a struck a chord there. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just…” Sebastian tries to save face. He really does. But there’s something about the sudden concern in her voice that does him in. “I just don’t really… _talk_ …to my mom…”

He expects a booming response. Something as over-the-top as all of her other reactions. But what he gets is her simply pulling her hands out of the sink, sympathy washing over her bright features and etching soft concern in her brow. “You don’t?”

It’s the sympathy of a mother and it hits him right in the gut, twisting and clumping into something ugly and sad. “No, uh…” he can feel the lump rising in his throat. “You’ve actually… You’ve given me more advice and attention in the two times I’ve seen you than she has in the past few years, so…” He tries to make it into a joke — tries to smile through it — but pushing it is too much and he can feel the watery sting in his eyes and the way his smile caves in before it even gets a chance to see the light and — “It’s alright.”

But she’s wiping her hands and shaking her head and saying softly: “No, sweetie. That’s not alright…” and then Sebastian’s wrapped up in a hug that blocks it all out. Blocks out the shitty feelings and the weird void that’s been there ever since he walked out of his house and didn’t really realize that he wouldn’t be coming back. Blocks out the voice in his head that nags  _‘you should call her. You should call her you should call her you should call her. You know she’s not gonna call you first.’_ It blocks all of it. And all Sebastian can do is let his head drop down and his eyes close so the tears don’t get out and just take a breath, his arms wrapping around her as well.

Because this is what the fuck he needs.

Chris appears but stops mid-stride, his brow immediately furrowing with something unreadable. Surprise. Worry. Confusion, maybe. But Sebastian doesn’t even see him — doesn’t even notice him silently turn and walk out of the kitchen to let them have their moment — because he’s too busy taking a deep shaky breath and telling himself to calm down because this probably breaks so many rules that he’s not gonna know what to do with himself when it’s all over.  

“You’re an incredible young man. And you have people who are  _so_  proud of you, and people who support you,” her voice smooths over him. “And you should be proud of yourself too, honey.” She lets go then, a soft and reassuring smile on her face as she takes a step back and then looks up at him. “Alright?”

Sebastian takes another breath, still shaky, and then nods. “Thanks…”

Her smile morphs into something warm — accomplished. “Of course. Now no more tears,” she says, eyes twinkling as she reaches up and brushes away a stray tear with the confidence of a mother who’s done it for her own child for years. “You’re breaking my heart.”

Sebastian huffs a chuckle, swallowing and rubbing his eyes with a sleeve and _knowing_ damn well that they’re still going to be red and puffy for a while but just accepting it. “Sorry,” he grins.

She returns to the sink with her own humming giggle, dipping her hands back into the soapy water. “You do realize that you’ll need to show me that design project at some point now, right?”

Sebastian’s eyes drop to the floor, the corners of his mouth quirking up again. “Can do.”

Chris rejoins them after a while — when the dishes are cleaned and drying and Sebastian and his mother are sitting across from each other at the table, talking in hushed tones as she brings a cup of coffee up to take a sip.

Sebastian is so at ease that he doesn’t even stifle the calm and loving smile that brushes over his lips when he looks up and sees him.

——————

“Should I be asking why you were crying in my mother’s arms today?”

It’s nighttime now, the television flickering against the darkness of the living room.

Sebastian’s curled up at the end of the couch, tucked under the comforter that he dragged in from the guest bed. He fixes Chris with a particularly interested but still very careful stare. “If I can ask you something too.”

Chris seems to consider the tradeoff for a moment, then he finally mutes the TV and tosses the remote to the side. “Alright,” he says calmly. “Shoot.”

It’s a kind of open-ended freedom that Sebastian’s not really sure how to handle now that it’s being thrown at him. He knows what he wants to ask — has known and thought about it long and hard for a few days now — but it’s the  _actually asking it_ thing that’s getting him stuck now.

So he picks at one of the threads coming loose on the comforter spread over him, deciding to focus on that so it doesn’t feel as cripplingly awkward when he quietly asks: “Who’s Julie?”

It cuts through the space between them like a dull blade, dragging over the air in a painful scrape as it reaches the frown beginning to form on Chris’s face.

Sebastian can already feel the awkward tug so he drops his stare, immediately regretting asking such a dumb question. He doesn’t need to see Chris’s look of cornered discomfort to understand that it wasn’t an appropriate thing to ask — that it’s none of his goddamn business.

“Sorry—”

“We met at an internship.”

Seb glances up, surprised by the older man’s willingness to share. He doesn’t say anything — doesn’t dare push anything in any sort of direction. He just lets Chris keep the slow but steady momentum.

“Got to be good friends,” he continues, gaze far-off. “Did a few projects together…” Everything he says is quiet — dropped down into a tone that Sebastian doesn’t have any trouble deciphering as bitterness cloaked in acceptance. He shifts in his spot on the couch, running a hand over his knee habitually, dropping his head with the last of it. “Got married. Got divorced. And now here I am.”

Sebastian’s heart sinks, bitter empathy rising into his throat and making his words fumble together on his tongue. Because that’s definitely not what he was expecting. 

Of course he was married. Of  _course he was fucking married_.

 _Look_  at him. How would someone as handsome and dedicated and sweet and talented as Chris get passed up all this time? He’s thirty fucking two, for Christ’s sake.

“Wh—… How’d it happen…?”

“I don’t—it’s kind of a long story.” Chris is speaking again, this time a touch less unsettled and a bit more honest. “I mean…I thought she was happy…? I thought she found me interesting, but… I guess the receptionist where she started working after we moved in together was more interesting.”

Seb waits. Can’t believe he’s hearing what he’s hearing. Can’t wrap his mind around the unbelievable fact that… “She cheated on you…?”

He’s answered with narrowed eyes and a humorless chuckle. “You’d think I would’ve figured it out after a couple months, right?”

And that’s… How is that possible? How could someone have Chris — really  _have him_  — and then decide that he isn’t enough? Seb’s not sure if it’s the bitter jealousy of a boy who doesn’t actually stand a real chance, or if it’s the empathy inside of him that’s making all of this hard to digest, but he pushes on. “Sorry…”

Chris nods.

His morbid curiosity gets the best of him. “Do you miss her?”

Chris glances over to the TV, still flickering and casting a deep blue glow upon him. “It’s been a few years.” He hasn’t looked at him for a while now.

And now a lot of things are starting to make sense. The man is 32. He’s been single for years. It’s presumptuous on his part, but Sebastian thinks he might get it. “So that’s why your mom’s so big on you trying to find someone.”

That lingers in the air as well, but it’s not rough and abrasive this time. It’s just there.

Chris smiles bittersweetly. And there’s something behind it that screams secrecy and doom and gloom and Sebastian can’t stop the sudden way his heart flitters in his chest from it.

Because there’s still so much about Chris that he doesn’t know. And technically he’s gone for hours at a time during the day — is usually gone when Seb comes home from school — has his own life that Seb just isn’t a part of and well— “You’re not—are you actually…like…seeing someone right now?”

Chris’s expression drops, his eyes finally meeting Sebastian’s in a swirl of sudden disturbed bewilderment “No.”

But Sebastian’s nerves have him on a roll that can’t be stopped. “Because I know you’re probably looking and everything and I mean—”

“Seb, no—”

“—I’ve looked shit up. Like, I know it’s normal to be looking for a relationship even with a sugar baby so—”

“Sebastian.” Chris leans forward, the eye contact startlingly pointed now. “No. I’d tell you, okay?”

His brow is furrowed. He’s serious. Adamant.

Sebastian doesn’t know what to feel. “…okay.”

He doesn’t want to let himself believe that Chris isn’t looking because he isn’t interested. He doesn’t want to let himself believe that Chris isn’t looking because he’s happy with what  _the two of them_  already have together.

“Okay…” he says again, more as a means to ground himself than anything.

And Chris is still regarding him with a look that’s slowly starting to ease back to normal. “Okay.”

Sebastian takes a second to take a breath. Calm himself down. Try to compartmentalize all this shit that he just willingly brought onto himself tonight — all this new information.

Chris was married. Was cheated on for months. Got divorced an unknown amount of years ago.

Now he’s here. He’s doing his thing. He’s got his flat and his volleyball games and his designs.

He’s got Sebastian.

And he’s not looking for a relationship at the moment.

Sebastian takes another deep breath, his eyes closing as it all processes.

“Do I get my question answered now…?”

He glances up, met with Chris’s casual attempt at lightening the mood a little — the soft smile on his face — the very slight raise of his eyebrows.

Sebastian can’t help but let it ease over the nerves in his gut. Even if he’s not particularly proud of the direction their conversation is taking.

“I uh…I was talking to her about my mom,” he confesses gently. “And it…just…sorta happened.”

Chris nods, seeming to cycle through his own sweep of sympathy, just as Sebastian had a moment ago. “Ah… Well, she’s a good shoulder to cry on.” He says it with a small smile — sweet and understanding and unfairly cute for a man his age. “Sorry you were feeling bad, though.”

It’s kind of pathetic, the two of them sitting here feeling sorry for themselves. Sebastian rolls his eyes and grabs at the edge of the blanket still draped over him, pulling it away with a flourish to reveal the spot next to him.

“Feeling sorry for yourself’s usually about three hundred percent more pathetic if you’re hiding under a blanket.” He pats the cushion next to him as Chris huffs out a chuckle at his declaration. “Trust me.”

It doesn’t take long for the couch to dip down under his weight, Sebastian leaning in from the shift but ending up just resting his head on Chris’s shoulder anyway because fuck it. “You sound so confident about that. What’re your sources?”

“I’ve had a lot of experience,” Seb smiles tiredly, pretty much abandoning all attempts at not snuggling up to him and throwing an arm around his middle after the blanket has been successfully pulled over both of them. “‘Cept usually the blanket isn’t this nice.”

Chris hums in agreement, a hand coming up to rest calmly over the forearm wrapped around him. “Mm. Yes. This one’s made of the finest silk from Sicily.”

Sebastian blinks, then props his chin up on Chris’s shoulder to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “Really?”

“No,” Chris laughs, his head dropping forward as he shakes it.

And Sebastian can’t help but laugh too. Because it’s not even funny but they’re just so tired and drained and fucked up and really he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

“I trust you about these things, you know,” Seb grins up at him. “You’re my only reliable source about fancy-ass things and I trust that you’re not fucking around with me.”

Chris looks back down at him, a fond little half-smile in place. “I’ll remember that.” Then he reaches over to gently sweep Sebastian’s bangs to the side, brushing his lips against his forehead in a kiss so light and so unprovoked that it leaves Seb in a daze — mouth parted and heart in his throat and gaze wide and innocent when Chris leans back, too busy resting his head against the back of the couch to notice how thoroughly he just blew straight through what Sebastian thought their relationship entails.

Because they’re not—… Nothing’s happening. He just did that on his own.

Sebastian takes a second…then leans his head on Chris’s shoulder again, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as the TV continues to flicker on and on into the night.

—————

Chris does end up buying him that laptop. The one that Seb uses for his design assignments now instead of having to ask to borrow his. It’s slick and shiny and new and Sebastian is beside himself with guilty joy because it probably cost Chris at least a thousand bucks and that’s just—… It makes Seb feel so guilty but he also really  _really_ likes getting spoiled by Chris so… It’s more of a tossup between the two.

Right now, he’s feeling spoiled. And he wants to show Chris how grateful he is.

In his defense, on a normal day, Sebastian wouldn’t just go barging into the bathroom while Chris is in the shower. He’s aware of personal space and boundaries and shit like that. But today is not a normal day. Today is the day that Chris dropped a shit ton of money on him and today is the day that Sebastian creeps into the big master bathroom, drawn by the soft overhead lights and the rush of heat and steam and the smell of Chris’s soap.

He steps out of his pants and pulls his shirt over his head, already half hard just from seeing Chris through the steamy glass shower door — wet and gorgeous and muscles tensing gloriously as he lifts his arms to run his hands through his hair and wash the soap off. Sebastian only looks for a second because then he realizes how creepy he’s actually probably being.

It doesn’t matter soon though, because then he’s pulling the glass door open and quietly slipping inside, his heart in his throat as he reaches out to touch Chris’s arm.

Chris startles, an alarmed sort of half yell/half curse coming out of him. But it doesn’t hide the smile that quickly follows after, his eyes closing as he runs a hand over his face, voice breathless, “ _Jesus_ , Sebastian. Little fucking warning next t—”

Seb pressed forward, slotting against Chris’s warm, wet body with a smirk and pressing their mouths together.

Chris stills for a moment, still seemingly caught off guard by the whole affair entirely. But that’s nothing a little bit of grinding can’t fix.

Sebastian rocks his hips forward, his cock sliding up between his stomach and the tightness of Chris’s abs, the slick sensation of it leaving his lips to part and a breath to escape him.

But this isn’t about him getting off. This is about Chris getting off. This is about: “Can I show you how grateful I am, daddy?”

It echoes in the large space of the walk-in shower, something in Chris smoldering at the change of tone. He runs his hands over Sebastian’s shoulders, then down his back, all the way down until it narrows at his hips and then they’re settling over his ass, a cheek in each hand. “You want to?”

Sebastian nods, biting his bottom lip as he looks up at him through his eyelashes. Fuck yes he wants to. He’s been looking forward to it ever since Chris handed over the laptop. “Mhm.”

They shift and the shower’s spray hits Sebastian’s back — hot and almost stinging and perfect — and Chris squeezes his ass a little before letting his hands fall away. “Alright.”

Sebastian drops to his knees without a sound, the tile warm beneath him.

He’s soaked by the spray for a moment before Chris repositions them, his back against the wall — smooth pale skin meeting dark tile — and Sebastian waiting impatiently on his knees in front of him.

“Go ahead, then,” he finally says.

Sebastian leans forward then, wrapping his mouth around Chris’s cock and bobbing his head in long, slow, eager strokes. He tastes like salt and soap and he’s heavy on his tongue — a feeling that Sebastian finds himself missing more and more between these moments they have.

He takes as much of him in his mouth as he can, breathing out through his nose and humming contently and letting his eyes flutter closed.

“God, Seb…” Chris breathes out, reaching down to run his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom lip as the younger man pulls away for a breath.

Sebastian lets his mouth drop open for him, Chris’s thumb smoothing over his lip approvingly. He looks up at him as he licks softly at the tip of his finger and then slowly sucks it into his mouth, wet and slick and not as good as his cock but he knows Chris gets off on this just as bad.

Soon the hand drops away and Sebastian follows it down, licking a nice long steady line up Chris’s cock and then swallowing him down again.  

Chris lets out a breathy sigh, and then he reaches down to thread his fingers through Sebastian’s wet hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Sebastian hums appreciatively, sucking up to the tip and then swirling his tongue around the head of Chris’s cock. Then that hand is coming down to cradle at the back of his head, liquid smooth and approving and moving with him as Seb bobs his head, experimenting with a few different angles that has Chris dragging his teeth over his bottom lip and murmuring, “Fuck, baby…”

It’s Sebastian’s favorite thing — when he’s sucking Chris off and Chris touches him and looks at him and tells him without words that he’s doing a good job.

Sebastian preens from it. Does his best to do everything that Chris likes because he wants to make him happy. And if the way Chris’s hold tightens in Seb’s hair is any indication of that, he’d say he’s pretty—

“Mmnnf!” Sebastian winces, pulling off and his eye stinging and Jesus fucking Christ—

“What’s—” Chris is struggling a little from the sudden movement, hands immediately coming down onto Seb’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut, tightly dragging a hand over them and  _wow_ , he got—

“What’s happening?”

“Fuckin’ soap in my eye,” Sebastian groans — can’t fucking believe it — can’t  _fucking_  believe that—

Chris is pulling him up, a hand on his arm and the other on his back. “Rinse.”

Sebastian does just that, blindly turning toward the shower’s spray until it hits his face. He lets the warm water wash over his eyelids, still wincing even though the pain is gone and it’s mostly just his pride that’s hurting now. “Oh yeah. So sexy,” he jokes dryly. “This doin’ it for ya?”

Chris laughs behind him — “I think I just came.” — and Seb is just glad that he’s being so…well, so  _Chris_ about everything.

He turns around, ready to smack him for that response, but of course he’s a bit off balance and the floor is slippery and he full on falls into Chris, strong arms swooping in and gracefully holding him up.

Sebastian clears his throat. Groans into Chris’s chest. “I swear I’m smoother than this.”

Chris just chuckles quietly. “I know you are.”

Sebastian finishes blowing him to prove it. Decides that next time he won’t slip  _or_ get soap in his eyes.

Chris doesn’t complain.

——————

It’s a big game.

A “tournament”, Sebastian hears other people say. A “tourney”, that one annoying dude with the hotdog keeps insisting. Because apparently the fact that Chris’s team has stormed through the first two bottom matches and has advanced on that little branch-graph-thing on the wall outside is enough for this dude to be throwing around volleyball-savvy words like “tourney” and “libero” and “pancake”.  

Point is, Sebastian’s at the volleyball court and this time he doesn’t have to hide. Because this time the bleachers are filled. And this time he’s not alone — flanked, instead, by Chace and Mackie on either side of him.

 _‘I wanna meet this guy,’_  is what Mackie had said (or something like it — Seb’s not too big on the specifics), and while this is not exactly  _meeting_ Chris, it’s definitely a start.

Chris’s team hasn’t come out onto the court yet for this match and Chace and Mackie only just got here, but Sebastian’s got a solid feeling that this is the right way to do things because: a) there’s no way for embarrassing first time interactions with Chris on the court and the three of them in the stands, b) if by chance Mackie gets a wild hair and decides to be shitty, Chris won’t hear him, and most importantly c) Sebastian basically has all control in the situation.

It’s a stellar plan. And he feels pretty fucking boss for thinking it up.

Especially when Chris’s team finally  _does_  come out, running onto the volleyball court to start stretches as the opposing team files out to do the same.

The stands erupt into applause — something that startled the shit out of Sebastian the first time it happened since he was so used to just creeping on his own.

“81,” Seb informs them proudly, a smile dancing its way across his lips as his eyes land on the black block-numbering on Chris’s jersey, then up to the furrowed brow of his focused  _gettin’-in-the-zone_  face that he’s come to love seeing.

Chace is the first to speak up, his tone first surprised and then carefully calculated. “Whoa, he’s…tall.”

“Mhm,” Seb answers as noncommittally as possible. Because how does he say  _‘yeah he is, and he’s hot as hell too’_  without making it grossly clear that he’s completely fucking  _gone_ for him?

“That beard, man,” Mackie adds.

And all Seb can say is: “Mhm,” again. Because he knows for a fact that if he starts talking about the beard even a little bit, nothing’s gonna end well. Especially if he gets on a roll about how fucking  _good_ it felt against his skin that night that they finally fucked — how badly Seb wants that sweet sting of beard burn on his neck now…his inner thighs…between his cheeks—

Chris’s eyes zero up on him like he can hear his dirty thoughts from all the way down on the court. (Seb wouldn’t be surprised…there’s probably a shit ton of excited/proud/horny vibes coming off him in waves at this point, regardless of how hard he’s trying to maintain.)

Seb smiles down at him, stopping himself from waving  _just_ before it’s too late. Chris already knows he’s here — had his whole half unimpressed/half amused smile/frown thing when he saw him in the stands during the first game — so there’s no immediate reaction besides a small smile.

That is, until he sees Chace and Mackie.

It’s kind of worrisome, because Seb can see Chris’s smile slowly starting to fall, his brows knitting together as his eyes seem to focus in on Chace and Mackie sitting on either side of him. It’s not an angry look…just more like…analyzing. Like he’s trying to figure out who they are.

One of Chris’s teammates (Grillo? Is that his name?) sits down next to him to lace his shoes up, apparently already in the middle of a conversation. When Chris doesn’t answer — too caught up in silently watching from the floor — Grillo follows his gaze up to where they’re all sitting in the bleachers and—

Sebastian panics a little. Knows that this guy is probably going to ask Chris questions about who the hell this skinny kid is and why they’re making puppy dog eyes at each other and Sebastian just—

He tears his gaze away. Pretends to be watching the other team warm up. Leans over toward Chace to ask him something that’s probably pretty dumb but the point is he looks busy and not all strung out like he actually is.

When he glances back down — a quick side-eye toward them — Chris is done lacing his shoes and has started on leg stretches, his posture nonchalant as he speaks to his teammate without looking at either him or Sebastian.

Seb doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not, but he just tries to roll it off and be chill, kicking back for the rest of warmups until the game finally fucking starts.

Chris is the first to serve. It’s like a goddamn miracle or some shit because it means Sebastian gets to show him off to Chace and Mackie right off the damn bat.

Seb can feel his heartbeat against his chest as he sits there with mounting excited energy because this it is. Chris is about to drop a bomb on those fuckers on the other team, and Chace and Mackie are gonna be here to witness it.

Right on cue, Chris steps back just a few feet off the end of the court, bending down to bounce the volleyball on the ground a few times and then stretch it out at eye-level as he takes a breath. It’s that muscle memory thing and Sebastian could positively fucking die with how intensely Chris is taking this — takes  _every_ game.

Another moment passes and then the ball is hurled up into the air, Chris zoning in on it and then jumping up (his body arching so gorgeously that it hurts), slamming his hand down and smacking it across the court with a sort of calculated accuracy that stuns the other team into silence.

The ball lands smack dab on the end line.

Perfect.

The crowd erupts into fucking chaos.

“Oh shit!” Mackie cries out in astonishment, a fist coming up over his mouth and the fact that he’s surprisingly impressed made pretty fucking obvious.

Even more obvious that the way Chace’s mouth just drops open with a: “Jesus  _Christ_.”

Sebastian leans back, rests his elbows on the bleachers behind him with a smug smirk as he watches Chris get the ball back in his hands for another serve.

Because  _that’s right_.

_That’s his fuckin’ man right there._

_——————_

Sebastian is going out of his goddamn mind with want by the time they walk through the front door of the flat, itching for the spanking that he knows is coming because it always comes after he shows up to Chris’s volleyball shit.

He toes out of his shoes and chucks his coat over a chair in the kitchen and waits as patiently as possible for Chris to get a fucking move on and start things.

But Chris is taking his sweet sweet time. “You really pulled some shit today. You know that, right?”

His tone is low and unhurried and calm. And it makes Seb’s pulse climb.

Because he doesn’t have half the self-restraint as Chris does right now. “I know. I’m sorry, daddy—I’ve been bad.”

“Yes you have.” Chris doesn’t look at him, just shrugs out of his coat and takes care to hang it up in the closet, his back turned as he says: “And what happens when you’ve been bad?”

Sebastian swallows, heat pooling low at the implication and knowing damn well that he brought this upon himself. Because Chris was an absolute fucking  _beast_ today and Seb’s friends had been so impressedand god damn it Sebastian’s fucking  _aching_  for it.

He takes his cue and bends over the back of the couch, past ready for Chris to get his hands on him.

But he doesn’t feel the older man’s presence behind him, even after waiting for a few breathless moments. And that’s not—…

Sebastian turns his head to look over his shoulder, his ass still sticking in the air.

Chris is watching him now. Calm and collected. “What’re you doing?”

It strikes confusion and excitement and a weird pit in Seb’s stomach, his eyes wide with innocent question. “…getting…ready for you?”

“What’s that?”

He swallows. “M’getting ready for you, daddy.”

Chris lets his eyes trail down Sebastian’s body, still bent over the couch. Then he takes a step toward the hallway — “I have something for you. Stay here.” — and then disappears with that same unhurried pace as before.

Sebastian’s heart is taking off into the goddamn atmosphere, all the stalling that Chris is doing having absolutely zero effect on how hard he’s still getting. Because this is planned. Chris knows exactly what he’s doing — how he’s driving Seb up the fucking wall with want as he drags this out.

And now he’s  _got something_  for him?

Sebastian has no idea what that means, but a whole shit ton of possibilities are popping up in his brain right now and it’s enough for him to rock his hips against the back of the couch a little, the pressure enough for him to let out a shaky little breath.

That’s when he hears Chris sauntering back into the living room.

“Someone’s eager.”

Sebastian pulls his hips back, behaving long enough to let slip: “I just want you to touch me, daddy.”

“Mm.” Chris’s presence settles behind him, warm but just out of reach and fucking maddening in every way. “And I want you to behave. But apparently I can’t have that either, can I?”

Sebastian whines softly, his eyes falling shut out of glorious frustration. Chris is being a fucking asshole tonight and it’s going straight to Seb’s dick.

“I have something for you,” Chris says calmly, the sound of tissue paper crinkling behind him enough for Sebastian to still. “And I was  _going_  to give it to you tonight, but then you misbehaved today.”

Sebastian shifts, a dull ache of disappointment beginning to bloom inside of him. Because Chris wouldn’t really keep it to himself, right? “M’sorry, daddy.”

Chris takes a step closer, still frustratingly out of reach. “See, you already give me enough trouble just by yourself, don’t you baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And then you decide to bring your friends around and I have to explain to other people who you are. And what kind of position do you think that puts me in?”

Sebastian lets his eyes shut again, pressing his face against the couch. Did Chris  _seriously_  tell Grillo that Seb’s his sugar baby? The possibility fucks with him so bad that he has to stop himself from rocking into the couch again. “A bad one, daddy.”

“That’s right.” Chris says. “And now I have this nice gift for you but I don’t know if you deserve it.”

He wishes he could see Chris’s face so fucking badly — see what he’s doing. “I do.”

“Hm?”

“I do, I deserve—…I deserve it, daddy.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I’m good all the rest of the time.” Sebastian getting a little bit desperate now, the want to roll his ass back against Chris’s lap detonating into pure craving. “I’m good for you, daddy. I just wanna show you off to my friends, daddy.”

Chris is silent then, and Sebastian’s not sure if it’s so he can continue or if it’s because he’s thinking.

Then he presses forward, a hand running up Seb’s back and his lap pressing against Seb’s ass and Seb fucking  _melts_ into it, his hips rocking back and a long breath escaping him as he arches into the solid warmth of Chris’s body.

“You’re right, baby,” Chris hums, dropping down to speak lowly into Sebastian’s ear. “You’re usually so good for me.”

Sebastian bites his lip and tilts his head back so Chris can press his lips against his neck. “Wanna make you happy,” he whines again, but this time it’s because he can feel how hard Chris is too as he rocks against him. “Wanna make you happy, daddy.”

“You do, baby,” Chris murmurs against his skin. “You make daddy very happy.”

Sebastian licks his lips before parting them, the want to reach back and touch almost too much. But he’s made it this far.

“Do you wanna see what I got for you?”

Sebastian nods, rolling his ass back against Chris’s cock and humming as one of those hands brushes down his side, the other coming up to present what’s been hiding behind him this whole time.

Sebastian’s heart officially takes off through his chest, his eyes scanning over the small black object in Chris’s hand — the slick sides and tapered thickness that bows out toward the bottom — the thin black box laying next to it in Chris’s hand, an on and off button set just above a series of ten smaller buttons.

It’s…

It’s a butt plug.

It’s a fucking remote control butt plug.

Heat spreads over Sebastian’s entire fucking body, pupils blown wide as he glances over his shoulder to meet Chris’s gaze. “When can we use it?”

Chris smirks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> butt plug inspiration credit to [MeghanInBlack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MeghanInBlack/pseuds/MeghanInBlack) ♡

Chris’s expectations are perfectly clear. Sebastian’s supposed to go in his room and try the butt plug and all its settings on his own before Chris even thinks about getting his hands on the remote.

But Seb feels like the air is getting knocked out of his lungs, his chest still pressed over the couch and Chris snug above him. 

“What? I don’t wanna do it alone.”

Chris makes an unamused noise. “You need to get used to it and know what you’re comfortable with before we use it together.”

“But I want you to do it.”

Chris lifts off of him, finally standing to the side and pulling gently at Sebastian’s arm. Seb lets himself be pulled off the couch so he can stand in front of Chris, who is now looking at him with understanding but still a fair amount of sternness.

“Baby…” he sighs, setting the plug down on the edge of the couch and smoothing his hands out over Seb’s arms as he talks to him. “I want you to know what you like. What if something happened and you felt uncomfortable? Or something got out of control?”

“Nothing’s gonna get outta control,” Seb reassures, running his fingers down Chris’s chest and then slipping them under the front of his shirt so he can feel the muscles there. “Nothing’s gonna get outta control because you’re gonna take care of me, right daddy?”

He presses forward a little more, brushing his hard-on against Chris’s and earning a hushed hum from the older man. “Seb—”

“Please?”

“…baby—”

“Please, daddy?”

Chris’s eyes have fluttered shut, his head tipping foreword a bit as Sebastian presses against him. “You’re making this really hard for me again.”

It’s like that night at the kitchen counter again — the one where they were both stupidly drunk and Seb ended up jerking off my himself because Chris wouldn’t fuck him — but this time Sebastian’s got a good feeling that he can persuade Chris into doing what he wants.

“Please, daddy,” he repeats himself, tugging at Chris’s shirt and licking his lips and looking up at him through his eyelashes in that way that he knows works wonders when they’re both in a mood like this. “I want you to use my new toy on me. I really really really want you to, daddy. Please.”

Chris swallows, tenses his jaw and squeezes Seb’s ass a little firmer than normal, and Seb knows he has him. He tilts his head down, pressing his lips against Sebastian’s temple and then a little further, his voice low and liquid smooth as he murmurs in his ear: “Go get undressed and wait for me on my bed.”

Sebastian smirks with victory, biting his lip and letting Chris kiss him again before pulling away, starting his way down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

“And Sebastian,” Chris calls calmly after him, “don’t touch yourself until I get there, okay baby?”

Sebastian’s skin prickles at the order, a surge of energy pulling through him as he turns to walk backwards, throwing Chris an obedient nod. “Yes, daddy.”

And then he’s disappearing behind the bedroom door.

Sebastian’s never undressed so quickly in his life, damn near ripping his shirt in half as he yanks it over his head. He steps out of his jeans and pulls his briefs and his socks off and realizes that Chris might be disappointed with him if he leaves it all on the floor, so he folds it all to the best of his ability (more like crumples it all up into a ball and sets it on the dresser) and then slides onto Chris’s bed.

His heart is racing, the promise of Chris’s hands on him almost too much to bear. And  _now_  there’s the whole butt plug thing to lose his mind over too.

Sebastian takes a deep breath — shaky and revealing. He can feel the air pumping through the vent near the window. The subtle vibrations of his pulse against his wrists. Every thread of the soft bedspread beneath his naked body.

And Chris is taking his sweet fucking time again.

Another minute passes and Seb groans, his fingers itching to touch himself as he lays there — hard and aching and out in the open.

But Chris said no.

Chris said no and what would happen if he walked in here and saw Sebastian touching himself anyway? Misbehaving? Would he put off using the toy and spank him instead?

That idea just by itself holds a shit ton of merit, but Sebastian pushes it out of his mind because all it’s doing is making the want to touch himself even worse.

He needs Chris’s hands on him.

The bedroom door opens, Chris stepping into the room like an angel descending from the heavens to answer his prayers.

He lets his eyes trail over Sebastian — waiting patiently on the bed just like he asked. “Good boy,” he smiles softly, and Seb glows from the praise. “See? You can behave when you want to.”

Sebastian clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “Yes, daddy.”

“And you folded your clothes too…” he regards the pile on the dresser with an amused squint, “…kind of… Someone’s trying to be extra good…”

Sebastian looks over to him from the bed, giving himself a mental pat on the back for that last minute decision to wrangle his clothes together. “Yes, daddy.”

Chris nods to himself and then walks unhurriedly toward the bed. “You think being extra good is gonna get you something extra too?” He sits on the edge, his gaze shooting warmth through Sebastian’s body.

Speaking is suddenly very very hard. “M—…maybe…”

The plug gets set next to him, Seb drawing his feet up so his knees are bent and there’s enough room at the bottom of the bed for Chris to shift over and sit in front of him.

“Like what?” Chris is so calm and cool and collected, tilting his head a little as he looks down at him. It’s a power play — Chris above him and fully clothed and looking down at Sebastian as he lies there naked and vulnerable. “What kinda extra something are you looking for, huh?”

It’s such an open-ended question. So many possibilities for answers. And Seb can’t form the words even though he knows exactly which ones he’s looking for.

“Hm?” Chris hums, reaching up to run the back of his finger over Seb’s knee, then all the way down his inner thigh, sparks shooting up Seb’s spine from the contact. “What do you want, baby?”

“I—” another shaky breath, “…fuck me.”

“You what?”

“Want you to fuck me, daddy.” He grits it out, the tease of Chris’s finger almost worse than no touching at all. “Want you to…use my toy on me ’n then fuck me.”

“Mm…” Chris nods again, his gaze dropping in thought before he pulls his finger away and then reaches over to pull something out of the nightstand. “I dunno. That sounds like an awful lot, don’t you think?”

It’s lube. Sebastian knows because he hears the telltale snap of the lid and when he cranes his head forward to look through his knees, Chris is squirting some on his fingers.

“Oh fuck…”

“I don’t think that’s an answer, do you?”

Sebastian licks his lips, brow furrowing as Chris snaps the lid back on. “W—…what’d—”

“I said don’t you think asking for your toy  _and_  for me to fuck you is a little greedy?”

Seb swallows, his eyes flicking back up to where Chris is looking at him. “No.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Hm…” Chris reaches forward then, and there’s that cold bite of the lube as he circles his finger over Seb’s asshole, Sebastian’s entire body tensing and his desperation going entirely overboard when he hears Chris say: “You just want my cock that bad, huh?”

It’s the dirtiest goddamn thing he’s ever heard Chris say and it hits Sebastian like a ton of bricks, full-blown lust detonating in his body as he rolls his hips down, Chris’s finger burying inside him and there’s that perfectly hot sting there and he hears Chris breath out a quiet “ _Jesus…_ ” but all that matters is he’s touching him.

“Yes, daddy,” he whines, biting his lip and then easing back down onto his finger again. “I want it.”

It takes Chris a second to answer, his eyes growing dark as he watches Sebastian fuck himself on his finger. Then he lets out a breath. “Yeah baby, I can see that.”

But Sebastian has lost himself — so fucking starved for Chris’s touch. Too much time passes before the second finger is added and Seb’s grinding down against them both, pleased with the burn but still craving Chris’s other hand on him — on his hip, on his neck, fucking  _anywhere_.

“Daddy…”

“Yeah?”

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “…daddy—”

“—what, baby?”

He needs more but he doesn’t know how to ask for it. Doesn’t know how to ask for much of anything at this point. Not with the way his heart is racing and his breathing has gone ragged and—

“D—…daddy—”

“Want me to use the toy?”

Sebastian tilts his head up to look through his legs again. Chris is already on top of things. Knows what Seb wants. Has the lube in his hand and the butt plug close by.

Seb nods, his hips bucking as Chris’s fingers slide out of him. He wants to touch himself so badly — wants to wrap his hand around his dick and just go to town or better yet, have Chris do it, but he stops himself and Chris is bringing the butt plug up before he knows it.

“Ready?” He asks carefully.

And Sebastian is so fucking past ready that it’s not even funny, but he nods like a good boy anyway and opens his legs as far as they can go and then the tip of the plug is pressing against him.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Chris says.

But Seb’s banking on the pleasure as the plug inches further and further inside of him, the tapered sides stretching him a little past what Chris’s fingers had. He chews on his lip, taking in the feeling of being filled and staying that way, and then Chris is pulling back and regarding him with a careful look.

“…good?” he asks.

And Sebastian lets out a satisfied breath. “Good.”

“Good.” Chris wipes his hand and then picks up the remote, handing it over to Sebastian without touching him. “There’s ten settings — ‘one’ being the softest and ‘ten’ probably being pretty ridiculous. I’m not telling you what to do, but I suggest you start with ‘one’.”

Sebastian takes another breath, glancing down at the remote. “Can you do it?”

“I—…Seb, it’d be easier if you—”

“Can you do it? Please?”

There’s that sense of desperation again, and Seb’s not even 100% sure himself why he wants Chris to do it so badly, but he feels it in his very core.

Chris takes a moment, seeming to consider everything again like he did in the living room, and then he’s settling further in between Sebastian’s legs, Seb’s knees hooking comfortably over his thighs. “You  _have_  to tell me what you want. Especially if it’s too much—”

“Okay—”

“No I’m serious, Sebastian,” and suddenly it’s not the whole playful daddy/baby dynamic. It’s Chris not fucking around. Being absolutely adamant. “I don’t know what you’re feeling. So you  _have_  to tell me if you want more or less.”

It’s grounding in its seriousness. And Sebastian nods obediently. “I will.”

“Promise?”

He licks his lips. “Promise, daddy.”

And just like that, they’re back in it again, Chris tensing his jaw and then looking down at the remote in his hands and—

“Wait,” Sebastian’s tilting his head up again, shyness worming its way through him as he asks quietly: “Can you maybe…take some clothes off or something?”

He doesn’t even need to explain himself for Chris to grin fondly, then reach up to pull his shirt up over his head, muscles tensing beautifully and making Seb’s fingers itch to touch for a whole new reason. He pulls off his pants too, dropping all of it on the floor and saying something that Sebastian doesn’t even hear because he’s too focused on how Chris’s cock stands thick and hard and ready and—

“ _Fuck_ …”

He doesn’t need to explain himself for that either, Chris smirking down at him before getting the small black remote back in his hands and asking: “Ready?”

It’s a serious question masked by the older man’s playfulness. And Sebastian is still way past ready. “Mhm.”

“Okay, here’s ‘one’…”

There’s a soft click in the silence and then a dull buzz, the plug vibrating at its lowest setting inside of him and Sebastian stiffening from it by default.

It’s low and calm and just barely more than ticklish and Sebastian can’t stop the smile that curls at the corners of his lips. “God…God okay, next one. Next one, please.”

Chris obliges — another click — and then the soft pulse is morphing into an even buzz, just enough for Sebastian’s lips to part and the smile to slowly start to melt, his eyes closing and the breath he lets out surprisingly shaky.

“How’s that one, baby?” Chris asks calmly, nudging closer and then running the pads of his fingers up and down the insides of Seb’s thighs again.

It cranks the sensation up about fifty thousand notches without so much as even touching the settings.

“It’s…it’s good,” he manages, taking another shaky breath.

“Next one?”

“Mhm.”

There’s another click and then Sebastian’s body’s tensing again, tighter this time. Because three’s a nice solid vibration that has Seb pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and worrying at it because it’d be embarrassing to blow his load at something as low as setting three right? He doesn’t exactly wanna take any chances so:

“N—” he tries. “Next one.”

Four’s not fucking around.

Four’s enough to have Sebastian’s mouth dropping open and a breathy moan falling out, his hips rolling up against nothing as the buzz intensifies enough to make his toes curl and face red and—

“Fuck,” he huffs out, brows furrowing and he doesn’t realize it but his body’s starting to shake a little and—

“Too much—”

“Fuck no keep going—” it tumbles out all together and Sebastian can feel the warmth spreading over his entire body and holy shit this thing isn’t messing around and maybe he can take five, maybe he can at least make it halfway through all the— “Nnn—next one—”

—and nope nope nope five’s even more intense than four and that hot pooling pleasure is blossoming low in his stomach and Sebastian knows he’s gonna lose it and—

“Fff—five’s enough! Five’s enough _five’s enoughFIVE’S ENOUGHFFUCK—”_ He scrambles back on the bed like he can get away from the sensation and Chris hits the off button and pulls the plug out and Sebastian is just  _this_ side of coming and— “ _Fuck c’mere—”_

 _—_ he practically fucking  _drags_  Chris down on top of him, lining him up on his own and then wrapping his legs around Chris’s waist and pulling him down as he arches up into him, Chris’s cock sinking in and replacing the feeling of the plug and _—_

Chris fucks him as hard and as quick and as relentless as Sebastian needs, Seb dragging his nails down his back and crying out and it all happens so fast that he barely has time to moan Chris’s name before he’s losing it, coming so hard that his vision blacks a little and there are tears welling up in his eyes and the only thing he knows is he’s got white hot pleasure flooding his body.

Chris coaxes him through it — murmurs things like “that’s it, baby” and “fuck, you did so good” and “good boy. Good boy, baby.”

And Sebastian can’t wrap his mind around a lot of things at the moment, but he knows for goddamn sure that this butt plug thing is gonna ruin him in the best fucking way.

——————

Chris is leaving.

Only for one night, but he’s still leaving.

He has to meet a client out in Maine so he’s flying up in the morning, meeting them, getting rest, and then flying back to New York the next afternoon.

Sebastian nods and is understanding even though it’s pretty short notice, (something Chris is a little irked about too). He doesn’t pout and say he’s going to miss him because he knows it’d be childish and dumb, even if it’s exactly how he feels.

Instead, he hugs him and tells him he’s going to trash the flat while he’s gone and Chris rolls his eyes and chuckles and everything is great until the front door closes and suddenly Sebastian is alone.

He doesn’t know how they’ve gone this long without Chris having to leave the state overnight, but Sebastian realizes a few hours in that he’s been taking it for granted. Because the flat is quiet and still and lonely without him sauntering around all daddy-like and blasting his fucking Coldplayand asking Seb if he wants to go for a run at 7:30am.

So Sebastian just gathers a lot of blankets and makes a nest on the couch and settles in so he can watch Ghost Adventures until the sun goes down.

He makes it really far — like three full episodes — before he’s pulling his phone out.

**i miss you**

He feels dumb as soon as he hits send — just the silliest, clingiest person in the whole damn world — but then his phone vibrates.

_i’ll be home tomorrow_

And then another.

_what kind of mischief are you up to with the flat to yourself?_

And it’s like the heavens are parting, his chest warming from the fact that Chris not only pacified his clinginess but is now also taking the time to actually keep the conversation going. It’s sweet and it’s cute and it’s just so  _Chris_ that Sebastian has to pull his knees up to his chest as he re-reads the messages.

What kind of mischief is he up to? He types his answer with a tiny grin.  **doing blow off some dudes ass**

Chris’s answer is quick.  _sounds fun_. It’s also dripping with sarcasm.

**you dont believe me**

_pretty sure youre probably just sitting there watching tv like a lump on the couch_

Sebastian glances up at his reflection in the glass patio door. Very lump-like, yes.

**you gonna guess what im wearin too?**

It’s a joke, but half the reason he makes it is because he knows Chris is gonna reply with something of equal or greater sass.

_hmm_

_gonna say one of my shirts since you apparently miss me so very terribly_

Sebastian can  _hear_  the teasing sarcasm from a few states away. Especially when another text pops up on his screen.

_then again theres just as good of a chance that youre not wearing anything at all_

It lights this little spark of mischief in Sebastian’s gut, his lips curling into a grin.

**youd like that wouldnt you**

Chris’s reply is quick.

_not if im not there to see it_

Sebastian runs his tongue over his bottom lip, chewing on it lightly and fingers tapping away. Oh how he wishes Chris could be here right now. And not even just because a handful of texts have Seb all riled up and wanting to be with him.

He takes a moment to reconsider his choices before deciding  _fuck it_  and hitting send anyway.

**i could send a pic**

There’s a long pause. One that has Sebastian nodding and saying “Alright, well that was fucking dumb,” to himself as he sits there, Ghost Adventures playing on in the background as he waits for Chris to respond.

It was kind of a risky text and he should’ve just taken a second to chill and realize that Chris is probably—

_you could_

Sebastian reads over the message again. And again.

Well shit.

**do you want me to?**

He knows it’s a pretty lame thing to say but he wants total confirmation that Chris is indeed wanting Seb to send him pictures of himself before he just goes off into a smutty selfie spree.

_if you want to_

Well  _shit_.

Hell fucking  _yeah_  Seb wants to.

Someone on TV screams and Sebastian untucks himself out of his blanket nest, opting to bop over to the other couch with his phone. He pulls his shirt off over his head and eases his shorts just a little off his hips and then settles onto the couch, stretching himself out and trying to find a suitable position.

It doesn’t take him long to remember that the front-facing camera on his phone doesn’t do a super great job at taking flattering pictures unless you’ve got it at the right angle. For Seb, the right angle turns out to be just a little above his head, his top half fitting nicely into the frame and the picture coming to rest just below the curve of his hips, enough to show off his bare chest and stomach and hips and a little lower without giving away the goods. He flashes a half-smile, a corner of his mouth quirking teasingly as he glances up into the camera.

Taking the picture is easy.

Sending it is a little bit more of a nightmare.

“Okay,” he says to himself — a mini pep talk as he stares down at his picture. He takes a deep breath, his heart pounding stupidly in his chest as he hovers his finger over the send button. “Fuck.” It’s so dumb. Chris has already seen him naked. Like fully naked. In way more intense situations than this. But for some reason this is different. Showboat-y. “ _Fuck_.” He presses his lips into a hard line, winces, and then hits send and throws his phone over onto the other couch in a panic. “Fucking shit.”

He doesn’t know how much time passes. Too much. Too much time, in his opinion. And he’s about to leave the room and go take a shower in an attempt to calm his steadily climbing nerves when his phone vibrates.

Sebastian scrambles for it, unashamed of his dire need to see Chris’s response as he fists through his blanket nest until he finds his phone.

He opens the text. Well…there’s two of them.

_damn seb_

_always with that smile huh?_

Sebastian feels his cheeks heat up, a grin bubbling up from deep inside him as he reads them again. He wants to tell Chris that  _he’s_ the reason that smile’s always there — the little teasing half-curve that he can’t control. He wants to say a lot of things. But he knows nothing he can say is going to sum up the feeling deep in his chest now, so he goes for a solid  **;)** and  **do i get a pic now?**

But Chris is on his game now too.

_of what_

**of you**

_doing what_

Sebastian grins evilly, throwing caution to the wind entirely.  **well id fuckin love a dick pic**

Chris’s response is short but he can still almost hear the amused lilt in his deep voice.

_jesus seb_

**what. dont tell me thats not what you were hopin for when i sent mine**

_i didnt say that._

_but the nights a little young to be taking pictures of our junk dont you think? :)_

Sebastian smiles,  **i’ll get back to you on that later then** ,his heart all fucking fluttery and shit and he doesn’t even know why. Maybe it’s because he misses him — misses Chris — and it’s only been a day. Maybe it’s because Chris can always find a way to make Sebastian feel better about things, even if it means giving him a hard time in that fond sort of way that he does.

Either way, they text back and forth for a little while longer, Chris telling him about how the meeting with the client went and what time his flight takes off tomorrow. And Sebastian just sits there, burrowing back into his blanket nest and grinning stupidly at his phone and only half watching the ghost hunting team reveal their findings on TV.

Chris finds him like that in the morning when he gets back — slunk into the blankets and sleeping peacefully with his phone tucked near his chest.

He doesn’t wake him. He just sets the sappy little stuffed elephant down next to him — the one dressed in a t-shirt with the word “Maine” scrawled across it — and goes to unpack in his room.

—————

The best thing about the butt plug is that they don’t have to wait to get naked and down and dirty to use it.

Sebastian can take a second to lube up and slide it in and then slide his pants back on, walking around the apartment as free as a bird, sauntering up to Chris and handing him the remote and then turning and walking away. It’s his signal that he’s feeling frisky, and Chris always gets this little flash of interest in his eyes when the small black remote is slid against his palm.

Sometimes Chris uses it right away. Sometimes he doesn’t — Sebastian waiting wherever he is with a consistently growing curl of arousal until Chris decides it’s time.

But that’s only after a lot of practice.

The first time they use it outside of the bedroom, though…Seb’s not entirely on top of things.

“ _Fuck_.”

He’s standing at the kitchen counter, his head hanging forward and his grip on the orange juice carton tightening into a death grip, too swept up in the sensation of the vibration to notice how Chris is watching very carefully from behind the paperwork he’s currently looking over at the dining room table.

Sebastian swallows. Closes his eyes. Tries to get control.

“You alright over there, baby?”

Seb’s voice is scratchy, almost a whine. “Mm—…mhm…”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

He’s not sure what setting they’re at. It’s definitely not five because he knows what that shit feels like, but they’re also definitely high enough for Sebastian’s hips to jerk forward at the transition onto a higher level and  _wow_  this is a lot different when he’s not spread out on the bed with Chris between his thighs.

His grip on the carton tightens even more — pretty much to the point that he can’t guarantee that he won’t rip through the goddamn thing pretty soon.

“When you’re done could you come over here for a minute?”

This is how it’s gonna be, Seb realizes, his head hanging even lower as he bites his lip. This is how Chris plays. He pretends he doesn’t notice how close to coming Seb is even though Seb’s positive that Chris is keeping an insanely close eye on him — faking ignorance while making absolutely sure that Sebastian’s in a good place.

“Seb?”

“Mhm,” he answers shakily, but he’s already forgotten the question, his brow furrowing and mouth dropping open with agonizing pleasure as that obvious heat begins to pool low in his stomach and his knees suddenly feel  _super fucking weak_  and— “ _Fuck_ —”

“Seb—” Chris is moving—

“FffhoGod—”

Sebastian’s legs give out and he disappears behind the counter and Chris is lurching up from his seat but Seb doesn’t even fucking care because  _holy shit he’s gonna come and—_

Chris is over him and the vibration  _disappears_ and Sebastian’s eyes go wide and he just kinda— “FuckkeepgoingI’msoclose—” and it only takes Chris a second to unscramble what he said before he hits something on the remote and then the vibration is back and Sebastian’s losing it, his head falling back against the floor and hips rolling up into the air and back arching and he grabs onto Chris’s arm as he comes — just fucking falls apart on the kitchen floor, orange juice spilling out all over the counter above them.

It’s a little less than graceful and it takes a lot of convincing on Seb’s part for them to do it again soon, Chris completely mortified and insistent of the fact that it’s too intense until Seb has to literally take him by the shoulders and spell out for him that it was fucking incredible and he needs it to happen again very soon.

It does.

It happens again very soon.

—————

Chris is leaving again. For a week this time. There’s a conference in California and it’s apparently been weighing on his mind for a long time because when he tells Sebastian about it, he’s wary and not super confident.

“You can still stay here,” he says, confident in at least that. “I can leave enough money for you to be able to eat and everything. We can go shopping before I leave and get you whatever you need.”

But Sebastian is too busy trying to swallow down that lump of disappointment, feeling small as he looks up at Chris. “A week is so long.”

Chris nods, understanding. And Seb’s just about to accept defeat when he says: “I’d ask you if you wanted to come with, but you have school.”

And  _oh._ It sparks intrigue and hesitant excitement and… “I can miss class.”

Chris frowns. “No. Seb, a week?”

“Yeah, it’d be fine.” He’s already trying to figure out how to weasel his way around the university’s assignments. “It’s college. No one cares about whether you show up or not.”

Chris doesn’t seem convinced. “But your studio classes…”

“I’ll bring stuff to work on in California.” He’s got his figure drawing shit, and his design shit but he can just bring his laptop for that, and he’s got that essay but he’s almost positive he can get that done on the plane—

“Seb.”

Sebastian’s stream of frantic mental planning comes to a screeching halt. Because that’s not a fond  _aw-you’re-so-cute “Seb”._ Or a  _you’re-a-little-shit-but-I-put-up-with-you-because-I-like-you “Seb”._ It’s short and honest in its wariness. And something about it makes Sebastian start to feel stupid for jumping the gun. “Do you not want me to go? Because you can just say that—”

“No, I do.” Chris is quick to answer, but he’s still got his brow furrowed with concern. “I do. But I can’t ask you to just stop going to class for a week so you can go across the country with me. It’s beyond ridiculous.”

Sebastian frowns. Doesn’t really know what to say to that. “What if…” he wracks his brain for something. Anything. “What if I can guarantee that I won’t be missing anything?”

Chris narrows his eyes, searching over him like he doesn’t 100% believe that he can actually deliver on that. But then he sighs and runs a hand over the back of his neck and says: “I don’t know how much you can do in two days, but if there’s undeniable proof, then yeah.”

—————

Turns out, Sebastian can do a fucking lot in two days.

He can take an exam early.

He can get an advance on classwork.

He can download class notes and presentations.

He can work his ass off on studio projects and sweet-talk his professor into missing a critique.

He can do a whole lot of shit.

Turns out, he can honestly convince all parties that he’s on top of things and has everything under control.

Turns out, he’s going to California with Chris as his pretend architectural assistant.


	12. Chapter 12

Chris sets Sebastian up with his tailor, Miguel, because in Seb’s short lifetime he’s never really needed to out and get a suit. But apparently there are gonna be some fancy-ass dinners and shit in Cali and Chris insists that he has a suit so…here he is.

It helps that Miguel is tall and sweet and as cute as the day is long. He helps Sebastian through the fitting process (damn near holds his hand through it, actually), which is awesome because otherwise Sebastian would just be flailing around the parlor with no idea what he’s doing.

Miguel sets him up with a slim dark-navy (almost black) suit — fitted at the thighs and hemmed just right and Sebastian stares at himself in the mirror as he stands there having his sleeve pulled at. Because he actually looks pretty fucking good, if he says so himself.

And they laugh and joke and gossip and Seb’s got a handle on everything until Miguel finishes a long stretch of laughter with an amused: “How’s your uncle? He hasn’t come in here  _nearly_ as frequently as I’d like him to.”

And Sebastian’s brain kinda does one of those loud record scratches like the needle’s been pulled off the vinyl, visions of a short greying man out in Ottawa throwing a wrench in the conversation because…what the fuck is this guy asking about his uncle for. “Uh…my uncle?”

Miguel measures something around the cuff and then glances at Sebastian in the mirror, politely patient. “He made the appointment for you, right? He’s been coming here for years — I’m surprised we haven’t seen you in until now.”

And that’s when all the little loose wires start getting connected in Seb’s head. Not his  _uncle_ uncle. His “uncle”. Chris must’ve said that Seb is his nephew to avoid weirdness when he called in. And Seb…doesn’t know how he feels about that.

“Oh, he’s fine…” the needle gets lifted and touches down on the vinyl in his mind, his brain beginning to work again. But he still has to be careful. “Did…he tell you where we’re going?” Because who knows how many layers this story that he’s just finding out about has.

Miguel takes a pin out from between his teeth and tucks it into the fabric near Seb’s ankle, smiling at him in the mirror. “Ah, The Golden State, right? Sounds like you’ll have a terrific time. And if I do say so myself, I’m sure you’ll be catching the eyes of plenty of potential parties in this suit. Including the one who matters the most.”

Something subtly knowing dips into Miguel’s voice — like he can see right through him or something.

Sebastian glances down at him, brow furrowing. “What?”

And it pulls that smile into a slightly mischievous one. “Whoever you keep thinking about when you look in that mirror there and smile to yourself? Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be blown away at how well you can pull this baby off.”

Sebastian blinks, his nerves beginning to swirl in his stomach because he didn’t even  _realize_  he was doing that until this very moment. But yeah. Yeah, he  _has_ been thinking about showing himself off for one person and one person only. And three guesses who that poor fucker is.

Miguel chuckles to himself, hanging his head and then reaching back up to mess with one of Seb’s sleeves. “See? You’re doing it right now. Just precious.”

Sebastian feels his cheeks heat awkwardly. He can’t help that he thinks of Chris more than he’d like to admit. He knows it’s a little immature, but…well  _fuck_ , Seb’s a little immature too, so it’s really not his fault.

But now that’s all he can think of — Chris seeing him in a suit for the first time and what he might say or what his expression might be. And it’s both really exciting and kind of terrifying so he asks very quietly: “Do you really think he’ll like it?”

Miguel looks up at him again, eyebrows raising knowingly. “Honey, all that matters is that  _you_ like it,” he says, then tacks on a wicked: “ _But…_ I’ve got a strong feeling that he’ll be falling all  _over_  himself trying to get to know you better by the end of the night.”

He says it with a confidence that has the corners of Seb’s mouth curling into a smitten grin as he glances at himself in the mirror once more, tucking a hand into the pocket of the navy fitted dress pants.

“I hope you’re right.”

“Oh,” Miguel laughs, “that’s something you’ll catch onto the more you come in here. I’m almost never wrong.”

——————

Their plane takes off in the late afternoon, the sun just beginning to set as they lift off into the sky. Chris is calm and cool and collected and Sebastian is going out of his mind on the inside, completely stoked about the fact that he’s actually in the air because he’s never been in an airplane before and holy shit isn’t it so fucking weird to think that they’re actually hurtling through the air at an insane speed right now?

“Yep,” Chris says, kindly indulging Sebastian in his excited little observations about the clouds and the sun and how it’s so rad to think that those little things down there are actually houses. “It’s around a five and a half hour flight, so we’ll be up here when the sun goes down and all the cities are lit up.”

Sebastian is beside himself with excitement for another half an hour. Then he’s just his normal excited for another. Around hour three, he’s calm and bored and finally chill enough to pull his phone out of his pocket, tucking one of his headphones into his ear and handing the other one over toward Chris.

Chris regards it with a tiny eyebrow raise, and then takes the earbud and puts it in just as Sebastian’s finding the song he wants and pressing play.

_“747 or a VC10  
Winter, summer who knows when?”_

Sebastian sits there patiently, face ducked down a little to hide how a grin is tugging at his lips.

_“Takeoff passion, flyaway love…”_

He presses his lips together, waiting for the bomb to drop.

_“Mile High Club.”_

Chris’s brow furrows in amused confusion, reaching over to pick up Sebastian’s phone from where it’s laying on his thigh to look at the name of the song. Yes, it’s  _Mile High Club_.

“ _Really,_ Seb?” he asks like it’s a chore, but nothing can hide that grin.

Sebastian’s already smirking, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans in a little toward Chris.

And Chris looks like he wants to laugh but he says: “No,” as sternly as possible.

“Aw, c’mon.”

“Did you really put that song on here just so you could use it today?”

Seb’s smirk widens. “Maybe.”

And Chris looks like he’s all sorts of trying to discipline while still trying not to laugh. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to fuck on a plane—”

Chris winces, quickly bringing his hand up to cut him off, his voice dropping off into a hushed whisper. “Jesus, do you realize how loud you’re talking?”

Sebastian presses his lips into a thin line, leaning over a bit to see past Chris, where a woman across the aisle is giving them a look.

“ _She’s just jealous because we’re gonna bang and she isn’t_ ,” he whispers a little louder than necessary, and it’s enough to have Chris taking a calming breath before fixing Seb with a stare.

“Honestly. Sometimes I don’t know how to handle you.”

The smirk is back. “I think you handle me just fucking fi—”

Suddenly the plane dips — just fucking drops out from underneath them for a split second and Sebastian panics — grabs onto Chris’s arm and holds on for dear life and holy shit are they dead?

Chris isn’t smiling anymore. “Whoa hey…hey it’s alright. It’s just a little turbulence.”

The calm hand on his thigh finally registers in Seb’s brain and he blinks. “Turbulence.”

“Yeah we’re just— The plane is moving over some air currents. It’s normal. Everything’s okay.” He’s got his other hand on the one that’s still clinging onto his arm, this thumb stroking soothingly over Seb’s knuckle.

And really Sebastian was about 94% that they died up until this point. But clearly they’re still alive and well because if this was heaven, that lady across the aisle wouldn’t be staring at them disapprovingly again.

“What?” he chokes out, his heart still in his chest because they just damn near saw the Pearly Gates. “The fuck do-ya want, lady?”

Chris is immediately reeling him back — doing as much damage control as possible and looking over at the woman and: “I apologize, it’s his first time flying. Please don’t take anything he says to heart…” but Sebastian’s too busy trying to lasso his own heart back down into his chest to really give a fuck.  

“Turbulence,” he says again like a broken record, his grip on Chris’s arm lessening.

“Yep, you’re totally fine,” Chris reassures him, if not just a touch peeved at Seb’s outburst towards the lady, who is now settling back in her seat. “In fact…” he says, tipping his head up to see out the window, “You should take a look out there. It’s pretty incredible.”

Sebastian trusts him — keeps that close eye contact for a second before turning and glancing out the window next to him, his eyes falling on one of the coolest things he’s ever seen in his life.

It’s the city (he’s not sure what state they’re over), lit with yellow and white and tinted blue dots — like their plane is so high that the stars are below them, twinkling up at him and Chris as they soar by.

Sebastian smiles. Feels that panic ebb away. “Wow.”

Chris leans over a little more. A little closer. One of his hands drops to Seb’s knee as he peers through the window.

“Never gets old,” he says with a peaceful grin.

Sebastian lets out a sigh, the bad vibes leaving him entirely as his eyes dance over the patterns of light below them. It’s not like anything he’s ever seen before — a bustling city turned silent and ethereal and delicate. It’s…well it’s _beautiful_. And Sebastian wouldn’t get to see it right now if it wasn’t for Chris.

He brings his phone up to snap a picture out the window — (it comes out beyond crappy but he doesn’t care because he knows he’s going to remember it anyway) — and then he shifts over and rests his head on Chris’s shoulder.

They both drift off to sleep — quiet and content and serene — that is, until they hit another air current and Sebastian lurches awake with a curse, kicking out and hands flying everywhere and Chris trying his best yet again to reel him back in with a reassuring touch.

—————

They are officially in Cali and Seb is officially a movie star now by default and he is officially loving every moment of everything — even when the hotel (a Hyatt, ironically) fucks up their room and they have to move to a new one. Because the new one looks out onto the ocean (he thinks it’s an ocean? It’s dark out now so he doesn’t know.) and it’s nice and big and has two queen size beds and Sebastian is already flopping his suitcase down onto one of the mattresses and rummaging through it for his swim trunks.

“Hot tub hot tub hot tub,” he chants with giddy excitement.

Chris glances at him from over by the window. “Do you by any chance wanna go check out the hot tub?”

It wouldn’t be as monumentally sarcastic if Sebastian hadn’t just spent the better part of the last two hours going  _on_  and  _on_ about how he wanted to hit up the hotel’s hot tub as soon as they got in.

Sebastian grins wickedly, pulling his trunks out from underneath one of his long-sleeves and pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re coming, right?”

Chris pretends to be suffering. “Probably don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nnnnope.” Sebastian shuffles off into the nook by the mirror to slide his pants off and replace them with his trunks, making sure the string in the front is tied tight. (He doesn’t want another mishap like that one time at Chace’s cousin’s lake-house.) “C’mon,” he says, reappearing to see that Chris is taking his sweet time unpacking. “It’ll be good for your old aging bones.”

Chris fixes him with a look — good natured in his resentment. “Easy there,  _kid_.”

Sebastian smirks. “Just try’na make you feel young again,  _pops_.”

“You do enough of that for the both of us,  _child_.”

Seb laughs, an eyebrow arching mischievously. “Don’t make me call you daddy. You know I will.”

Chris laughs too. “Oh I  _know_ you will. I think you’ve already proven that.”

His eyes are dancing with playfulness and it makes Sebastian’s heart feel all airy and light in his chest. And he’s about three seconds away from wanting to forget all about the hot tub so he can stay up here and prove it some more. But they’ve got all the time in the world to fuck around, so he puts his hands on his hips and says: “Hot tub.”

And Chris says: “Oh, you wanted to go down there? You should’ve said something earlier,” like the fucking smart ass that he is sometimes.

And it only takes them a few minutes before Seb’s damn near pulling Chris out of the room and down the hallway.

—————

The pool area is gloriously empty when they get down to it, Sebastian doing a little dance of joy as he makes his way over to the hot tub in the corner.

“Bubbles?” He asks, but before Chris can respond he makes a command decision, “Bubbles,” and slams his hand down onto the little timer thing on the wall.

The water bubbles to life, a thin film of frothy goodness quickly taking shape as Sebastian eases into the hot tub. It’s warm and soothing and a little weird to adjust to but he slides in all the way to his shoulders, settling down onto the little tile bench that wraps around the inside.

Chris is moving at normal-person speed, so he’s just reaching the edge now, slowly easing his way into the water in all of his gorgeous shirtless glory and looking about seventy times hotter than any professional swimsuit model.

Sebastian takes another second to admire and then shifts over so one of the jets is hitting his back, the steady stream massaging over the muscles soothingly.

“Ohhh fuck yeah,” he hums, closing his eyes from the sheer bliss of it. Their five and a half hour flight was more like a six hour flight and craning himself over to sleep on Chris’s shoulder for the last of it didn’t exactly do his muscles any favors.

Chris lets out his own contented sigh, having comfortably settled directly across from Seb. “Coming down here was a good idea. I’m glad I thought of it.”

Sebastian peeks an unimpressed eye open at the amusement in his tone, “These are dad jokes. You realize that, right?”

“Just living up to the name,” Chris hums peacefully.

“Oh my God stop, I’m serious.”

“Hi Serious, I’m Dad.”

Sebastian groans, “Noooo,” his voice echoing off the high ceilings of the pool room. “Chris  _stop_. You’re too cool to tell dad jokes. You’re completely blowing through that whole ‘hip, successful daddy’ vibe you’ve got goin’.”

Chris chuckles. “The contradiction in that is astounding. And don’t pretend like you’ve ever found me hip.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, his smile finally stretching past that ‘I’m going to pretend to pout’ phase. “No, you’re totally right. You need me to keep you up to date.”

Chris smiles, and Seb can already see the joke rolling off his tongue. “Ha, right. I need you like I need a sharp stick in my eye—”

Sebastian’s got the splash on deck and firing before Chris can even finish, the water arcing over and nailing Chris straight in the face.

And it’s hilarious because Chris doesn’t  _expect it —_ somehow doesn’t realize after living with Seb all this time that this is exactly the kind of shit he’d do in the name of retaliation. So when everything settles again, his mouth is dropped open and he’s running a hand down his face to wipe the water out of his eyes.

“You little shit,” he gasps, a grin slowly forming. “How did I not see that coming?”

And there’s something about being jokingly called a little shit that fuels Sebastian’s fire — enough to bring his hands up like he’s going to unleash another wave onto him. “‘Cause you’re gettin’ old,” he teases.

Chris’s grin turns heated. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah what’re you like 85 now?”

“And a half,” he corrects, his brows furrowing slightly when he sees Sebastian start to move back and forth on the bench across from him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Testing out your reflexes,” Seb grins devilishly, making a scene out of putting his hands out at different angles as he kicks his feet out to propel himself in the water. “Where’s the next splash gonna come from? Where’s it gonna be, oh man…”

Chris’s expression settles into one of fond but tired amusement. “Jesus…”

“Will he block the splash or will Sebastian once again come out victori—”

“Hey.” Chris reaches out, grabbing Seb’s ankle under water and holding him still. “No horseplay. Can’t you read?”

Sebastian’s eyes flick up to the sign of pool rules nailed artfully to the wall on their right. Yep, that’s actually the very first one. His body stills by default, Chris’s hand still wrapped around him. “You’re also not supposed to be pregnant in here.”

Chris nods, considering. “Are you pregnant?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then I think we’re safe.” He pulls gently, leading Sebastian over to him by the ankle, Sebastian’s body drifting effortlessly across the water between them.

“Mm, I dunno. Not without a lifeguard on duty.” (Rule #7, for anyone who’s wondering.)

He drifts a little farther and then comes to settle in Chris’s lap, his knees on either side of the tile bench beneath them.

Chris waves the comment off, his hands coming to rest on Seb’s lower back. “Nah, we’re fine. I was a lifeguard for a little while.”

Sebastian makes a face, about six thousand things all popping up in his head at once (many of them he should probably save for later). When he says it, it’s like he’s just trying to convince himself more than anything. “No you weren’t.”

And it’s enough for Chris to sit back a little, raising his eyebrows at him in offense. “Excuse me, yes I was. For six years.”

Sebastian shakes his head, bringing his hands up to rest on Chris’s chest as all those images start to fly right on back into his head. “That fucking figures.”

Chris must take it as an insult. “Why?”

Seb stares at him, voice dripping with sass because fucking  _seriously_? Like how does he not see that this is just one more outrageous thing that makes him mind-numbingly attractive? “Uh, because you’re perfect?”

Chris winces. “Ew. God, don’t say that.”

But Sebastian will not be silenced, too riled up by the thought of Chris in a lifeguard uniform doing lifeguard shit to maintain composure. “Oh come  _on_. I’m sure people were throwing themselves in the water and risking brain damage trying to get your attention.” Chris actually chuckles at that, so Sebastian tacks on: “S’what  _I_ would’ve done, at least.”

“Mm. Then it’s a good thing we didn’t know each other back then,” he counters, his hand trailing down to palm over one of Seb’s ass cheeks. “You already have enough brain damage as it is.”

Seb wants to pretend to be insulted, but it’s really fucking hard when he’s got Chris’s hand squeezing his ass like that. He tips his head forward a little, persuaded by a completely different heat that washes over him. “You’re a dick.”

Chris grins, leaning in as well, “I’m joking.”

“Mm…” his eyes flutter shut, tone dropping low and Chris’s face comfortably close and… “Still a dick…”

Chris hums, “Mmkay…” and then Seb’s tipping forward and pressing their mouths together — long and slow and sweet.

The warmth bubbles up between them, Chris keeping his hand on Seb’s ass and bringing the other calmly to his cheek, his thumb brushing against the high curve of Seb’s cheekbone.

Sebastian slowly breathes out through his nose and he pulls his hands out of the water to rest them on the sides of Chris’s neck, tipping his own head to lick smoothly into Chris’s mouth with a hum.

Chris’s response is effortless, their tongues slowly sliding together and apart and down far enough for him to lick Seb’s bottom lip into his mouth, running his teeth over it so so gently that it pulls a tiny little noise from the back of Sebastian’s throat.

The rush of the bubbles and the jets and everything around them doesn’t conceal it — not with how close the two of them are — Seb’s ass planted snugly in Chris’s lap under the water, Chris rewarding him with a soft squeeze every now and then.

Chris’s tongue smooths over Sebastian’s and Sebastian practically purrs, regretting the fact that they haven’t really taken the time to do this until now — to just sit and make out and not really worry about getting off or anything — just lazy grins and open mouthed kisses and the occasional lip bite.

Why haven’t they done this before? Why haven’t they just chilled and made out?

Chris murmurs a low chuckle, because apparently Seb just said that out loud, and then there’s the faint sound of voices that explode against the high ceilings as a family comes crashing into the pool area and—

Sebastian wrenches away, his body creating a massive wave as he scrambles back off of Chris’s lap and propelling himself over to the other side of the hot tub and his heart in his goddamn throat because  _Jesus Christ_  a little warning next time would be nice.

It’s a big family. Three kids, a baby, and the husband and wife. Sebastian wants to tell them to fuck off back to their room because he was just in the middle of a serious makeout session. Glancing across the way, Chris seems to be feeling the same way.

Regardless of what they  _want_ to happen, the kids all cannonball into the pool and the mother slowly eases herself and the baby into the shallow end and the dad…well the dad is sliding into the hot tub with him and Chris and isn’t that just perfect.

“Howdy, boys,” he says, far too happy for someone with three kids and a baby, Seb decides.

But Seb swallows, his breathing a little heavier than it should be as he licks his lips and realizes they’re probably pretty red and obvious (because that’s what they like to do when he’s been kissing someone as intensely as he just had). “Hi.”

“Evening,” Chris nods politely, but Seb can see straight through that smile that’s slapped on his face.

The man launches off into unencouraged and frankly unwanted stories about his family’s trip out here to California. Something about little league soccer or some shit — Seb’s not sure because he tunes out about three seconds in, images of screaming children in a minivan washed gloriously away by the gorgeous image of Chris lifeguarding however many years back, shirt off and skin tanned beautifully by the sun as he walks around the edge of the pool, the whistle that’s looped around his neck brought between his lips.

He’s got a confident stride and that certain lifeguard swagger and his trunks are tied nice and low so they hang off his hips and the curve of his ass and yeah, Seb’s about 110% sure that he’d probably do some pretty dumb shit to get his attention. To see him move into action — sprinting across the pavement and grabbing one of those tube things and launching himself into the water with a perfect dive, his muscles flexing perfectly and feeling like fucking heaven as he lifts you from the water, laying you out and hovering over you like a hot lifeguard angel and you don’t need CPR because you were totally faking it so he just kisses you instead.

God  _damn_.

Sebastian realizes he’s smiling to himself when he zones back in to see Chris subtly raising an eyebrow at him.

The man is still talking.

“I’m gonna head up to the room,” Sebastian says as low key as possible, but still with enough pointed eye contact that Chris  _understands_.

He does. He does understand, because he holds that eye contact for just a little longer than necessary, his gaze dropping to Seb’s ass and then back up as Seb pulls himself out of the water. “Alright.”

The kids shriek and the baby starts crying as Sebastian finally makes it to the door, the promise of quiet and Chris enough to help him make it through.

He only has to wait up in the room by himself for a little more than ten minutes, standing in front of the large floor-to-ceiling mirror to fix his hair when Chris slips through the door.

They’ve both toweled off but are still in their trunks, Chris coming up behind him and planting a soft kiss on Seb’s cheek from behind.

Sebastian lets his mouth curl into a lopsided smile, Chris’s lips pillow-soft as they brush against his cheek again and then slowly trail over to just below Seb’s jaw.

“Picking up where we left off?” he murmurs sluggishly.

Chris answers by pressing his lips down Seb’s jawline — soft but heated and deliciously slow, his breath warm as he quietly exhales with a grin and then kisses down Seb’s neck. “S’what you wanted, right?”

Sebastian watches their reflection, that lopsided smile curling higher as Chris’s lips move gently against his skin. He tilts his head to the side to give him a better angle. “Right,” he breathes out, reaching back and sliding his hand down the back of Chris’s swim trunks.

Chris’s hands move as well, resting on top of Seb’s bare shoulders and then tracing down his arms, nice and unhurried until they stop at his hips and then pull Seb back into him a little.

“Mm,” Seb hums, his eyes fluttering shut. He turns his head a touch, Chris catching on and slotting their lips together firmly. It’s slow again, but just as heated as any other time, Chris’s breath catching in his throat as Seb bites down on his bottom lip and pulls.

Their bodies fit snugly together — two curves welcoming the other with open arms.

Sebastian leans into him and Chris takes the lead, gently pulling him backwards by the hips until they hit the bed — Chris bouncing slightly from the springy mattress, only to be weighed down when Sebastian crawls into his lap and presses a hand to his firm chest, pushing Chris’s lower half down onto the bedspread.

Tonight’s the night. Tonight’s the night he’s going to give Chris’s abs the attention they deserve. Just like he vowed to do after the first time they slept together.

They’re as glorious as can be, Seb kissing and nibbling and running his tongue along the tight creases of muscle because god  _damn_.

“Mmm…chlorine,” he hums jokingly, the obvious smell of the hot tub thankfully just staying as that and not effecting the salty-sweet taste of Chris’s skin.

Chris reaches down to run a hand through Seb’s hair. “Another reason why it’s good you didn’t know me back in my lifeguarding days.”

Sebastian chuckles, low and smitten as he sucks a hickey into Chris’s skin. “Somethin’ tells me I woulda put up with it just fine if it meant bangin’ you.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head a little.

Sebastian’s new vow is to leave a hickey on each of his abs.

Because what could be better than walking around at the first day of the conference tomorrow, knowing that underneath Chris’s nice ironed button-up are six solid indications that Seb’s his baby and Chris is his daddy?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING:**
> 
> anxiety attack

Sebastian’s not  _entirely_ sure what he was envisioning when he’d been told “week-long conference”, but it definitely wasn’t  _this_.

 _This_ is a shit ton of people milling around in a gigantic arena-turned-conference-area, booths and tables and interested parties set up in a never-ending grid system that has Seb balls deep in déjà vu after the first five minutes.

There’re people handing out business cards like they’re making it rain — other people dressed all fucking proper and shit as they sit behind their booths and wait for poor suckers to approach them — it’s all at max velocity and it’s all happening at once and Sebastian doesn’t realize he’s retreating into Chris’s side until the older man glances down at him with that concerned crease in his brow.

But Seb gets better — gets looser — realizes that it’s okay because he may be completely out of his element, but he’s here for Chris and Chris  _definitely_ knows what the fuck he’s doing — which tables to stop at — which ones to politely pass without eye contact — who to strike up conversation with and who to avoid. Sebastian takes mental notes.

Day One is okay. But what Seb’s  _really_ looking forward to is dinner. It’s with a bunch of people that Chris knows from either college or internships or whatever and that’s cool, but mostly Seb’s just really fucking selfishly excited because it’s at a fancy-ass restaurant and he gets to wear his new suit that Miguel hooked him up with.

So he nods and is polite and still kind of subtly hides behind Chris a little bit when people come up to talk to them (by the way, bullshitting about being Chris’s assistant is astronomically easier than he thought it’d be), and as the little pangs of anxiety from being put on the spot flood in and then back out again, he just keeps his eyes on the prize.

—————

The overhead lights near the sink in the hotel room are pretty flattering — casting Seb’s suit with a white light that picks up all the brighter hues in his suit and raises it from almost black to the dark navy that it’s born to be. It makes the skinny black tie that Miguel picked for him stand out even more.

“That’s fine. Yeah, we could probably work something in around that time, don’t you think?”

Sebastian glances over himself in the mirror, listening as Chris talks to some unknown person on his phone from the other side of the room. There’s a wall between them, and Sebastian is thankful because it gives him just the right amount of cover to fix his hair and pull at the sleeves of the jacket and try to swallow down that little bubble of nervous excitement that’s stirring inside of him. Because this is it. This is the moment he’s been both dreading and eagerly awaiting. Chris needs to get off the phone so they can do this.

“Maybe something around two o’clock. …what? … Well yeah, but then we’d have to factor in driving time.”

Sebastian takes a deep breath, his anxiety leaving no more room for patience, and just does it. He checks himself over in the mirror one more time, and then he steps out into the room where Chris is facing the window with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Alright. Three, then? It’d make more sense to give us enough time for traffic.”

Chris is getting a little unhinged and Seb just stands there, feeling awkward in all the right places and—

“That’s fine. … Alright, three’s fine—”

“Chris…?”

“Yeah just make sure you’re there this time,” Chris says and then he’s finally turning toward him and— “It’s important—…”

Chris stops.

He just stops talking altogether, his eyes landing on where Sebastian is standing across the room.

Sebastian shifts. Wrings his hands. Watches as this sense of silent  _something_ washes over Chris’s face as those eyes slowly take in the sight before him, his lips parting a bit. Watches as the hand holding Chris’s phone slowly drops to the side, whoever’s on the other line apparently far less important than—…

“Can…” speaking is hard, “can you say something? I’m starting to feel really stupid…”

Chris still doesn’t move, but his eyebrows are raising like he can’t comprehend why Seb would be feeling that way. “ _No_ , you—” he shakes his head, looking over him again. “…wow…”

It’s one tiny little word but it hits Sebastian like a punch to the face and it sinks under his skin and it curls the sides of his mouth into a shy smile.  _‘Wow.’_

“Um…” he murmurs, pulling at one of his sleeves. “So it’s okay? It doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard?” Because that’s pretty much what this is, no matter how you sugarcoat it. Seb’s just a broke college kid standing here trying to pass as a fancy architectural assistant.

But Chris must not see it that way. “No, you look—…” He takes another second, shaking his head again like the words he’s reaching for aren’t good enough. “You look really fucking good, Seb.”

It’s like fireworks in Sebastian’s heart. It’s like the string of city lights from the plane ride are lighting up in his soul and there’s nowhere for all the excess good vibes to go. It’s like…

“Thanks,” he can’t contain the beaming smile now as he glances down at the pattern on the carpet, his face heating up. With all the times he’s imagined this moment going down in his head, you’d think he would have something better to say. Yet here he is.

Chris isn’t talking either. To anyone.

Seb looks back up, noting how his phone is still hanging uselessly in his hand. “Uh…should you be hanging up or something?”

Chris blinks, his normal expression returning like he’s just been pulled out of a trance or some shit as he glances down at his phone with an: “Oh…” and then hits a button.

“Hope that wasn’t important or anything. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Chris waves it off, “No…no…” and then he’s slipping it into the back pocket of his dress pants. “Are you ready? We’re running a little late.”

A quick check with the clock on the nightstand tells them that  _yeah_ , they’re actually a bit more than a little late. So Sebastian makes sure everything with his suit is on the up and up one more time before following Chris out the door, not too nervous about this whole dinner thing to miss how Chris’s gaze keeps falling right back onto him.

It doesn’t stop there. It continues even at dinner — the one that they are apparently actually  _very_ late to, because the only two seats that are empty aren’t next to each other, and Seb looks at Chris with this deer-in-the-headlights look but Chris just nods at him, silently tells him it’s okay, and they sit anyway.

Technically, he’s only a seat away. Like…across from Seb is this random lady but then next to the random lady is Chris. It’s not like they’re on the opposite ends of the table from each other. But it still leaves Seb with this little pang of anxiety that only deepens when he takes a look at the menu and sees that he doesn’t have one fucking clue about what these words mean.

Vitello saltimbocca?

Fruta di mare?

The  _fuck_?

The least this place could do is throw a tiny little description next to these things for those who aren’t exactly fancy-ass-restaurant-inclined. Even with all the places that Chris has taken him, he’d at least been able to figure out what stuff was without sweating it.

Sebastian thrums his fingers against his thighs, contemplating fishing his phone out of his pocket and doing a quick Google search under the table so he has at least  _some_ sort of idea what he’s getting himself into. But…that wouldn’t be professional, right? And that’d probably make Chris look bad…right?

But what on God’s green fucking earth is ahi carpaccio?

Chris must sense the angst coming off of Sebastian in waves, because he nonchalantly clears his throat, and when he sees Sebastian look up and over at him, he super casually glances away and holds three fingers down onto the table and then lifts his hand to take a drink from his glass.

It’s all quick and smooth and Sebastian feels like a secret agent or some shit. Three. Three?

He looks down at the menu.

_3\. Linguine Amatriciana_

…Sebastian looks back up at Chris, but the older man is already talking to the person next to him. And the dude is coming around to take their orders already, so Seb settles with the fact that Chris knows what he’s doing. And he  _does_ know what Seb likes. So he puts his fate in Chris’s hands and orders the amatriciana — butchers the hell out of the name while he’s at it (he knows because out of the corner of his eye he can see Chris stifling a smile with another drink) — but what’s done is done and he feels the pressure lift from his shoulders as the server nods and says “Very good, sir,” and moves onto the next person.

Turns out linguine amatriciana is just pasta with this really awesome sauce that has bacon and other sick stuff like that it in.

Turns out Chris never seems to lead him astray with anything. Not even with something dumb like ordering food.

——————

When they get back to the hotel, Chris comes up behind Sebastian again — just like yesterday after the hot tub — but this time he wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on Seb’s shoulder, smiling warmly at him through their reflection. And Sebastian feels that warmth all the way to his toes, tilting his head so it rests against Chris’s.

——————

The second day of the conference is considerably more hectic. People have grown out of their excessive first-day buzz and are now entering get-it-done mode, even though there’re still two more days to kiss ass and make connections.

Point is, it’s pretty intense and Chris is handling it like a pro and Seb’s kind of floundering with the questions that some people are asking him because those specific things weren’t covered in his and Chris’s “Quick Guide to Bullshitting Being an Architectural Assistant”  talk. But Seb still does his very best, answering with as much polite BS as possible. (He doesn’t include the fact that he knows what he knows about the Chicago project because he spent the majority of it in Chris’s lap.)

The woman they’re talking to asks questions. A lot. A lot of questions. But eventually she leaves and Sebastian looks up at Chris as he’s looking down at him and they smile at each other, both pleased with how relatively well this whole thing is going.

It’s all really quite an astoundingly successful day until Chris says: “So there are some graphic design people over there.”

And Sebastian glances over to see the booths in question. “Yeah…?”

And Chris says: “Maybe it’d be a good idea if you went over and talked to one of them for a little bit.”

And Sebastian starts to feel that uncomfortable curl of nerves in his chest. “…huh?”

But Chris is doing an annoyingly good job at staying calm. “I mean…it couldn’t hurt, right? To have some options open for yourself after you graduate?”

And somehow everything goes from being about Chris to being about Seb and his future in the blink of an eye and it’s way too sudden and catches him off guard and Sebastian just kind of… “I don’t…I mean…I don’t have anything to show them. I don’t have a portfolio or anything.”

That’s when Chris takes the bag that Seb’s been carrying around for him all day, sliding out a tablet and holding it out toward him.

Sebastian frowns, glancing from the tablet up to Chris’s face. “What—”

“Seb, c’mon.”

He takes it. Turns it on. Flicks through all the images loaded onto it.

It’s Sebastian’s own work.

“What the fuck.”

“Will you please go talk to some people?”

 _It’s Sebastian’s own work._  Chris took his designs from his laptop and uploaded them onto a tablet and—

“Sebastian—”

“I don’t—” What the hell? “I don’t know how to—…”

Chris watches him carefully. “Don’t know how to what?”

Seb’s reached the end of the images. His images. “I don’t know…how this works.”

It takes a moment, but Chris catches on, throwing the bag strap over his shoulder. “Just go up to them and be yourself.” He pauses to rethink. “Maybe a little more polite.”

But Seb’s not laughing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Pretend you’re talking to my mom,” Chris suggests, and it’s actually kind of helpful. For a moment. “Just with less blushing.”

Sebastian frowns at him, finally making eye contact. “Fuck you. I don’t blush when I talk to your mom.”

“You do, but that’s not the point. The point is to just be polite. And don’t be nervous to talk yourself up a little. Let them know what you can do.”

Sebastian swallows down the lump forming in his throat. This is all too real too quick. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” Chris takes him by the shoulders then, tilting his head down a bit to try and connect. “Seb, hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to right now if you really don’t want to. This isn’t a make or break thing. It’s just feeling it out, okay?” He squeezes his shoulders a little when Sebastian looks away, getting that eye contact back. “Okay?”

No. Not okay. Not really. Not so suddenly.

Sebastian glances over to the booths again, his heart spiking with dread as he catches the eye of one of the women sitting there.

Chris re-evaluates the situation on the spot.

“Okay. Okay this was really dumb of me to do. I’m sorry, please don’t feel like you’re being pressured into something.”

Sebastian looks back up at him, his face probably frozen with the very real panic that he’s feeling right now. “I’m not—…I just don’t think—”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this right now. Or even today. Just take a second, okay? Everything’s okay.”

Chris is using that voice that he used a couple months back. The one at the coffee shop where Seb had his face buried in the toilet and Chris was kneeling next to him with a hand on his back.

 _That_ voice.

“Do you want me to go get you water or something? I can see if there’s a place you can sit—”

“I’m fine,” Sebastian interrupts, waving it off the best he can because this may be about him right now but the whole reason they’re here is because of Chris. And all these people who are looking at him (or maybe they’re not) are realizing how psycho Chris’s assistant is and why would they ever want to hire someone if their assistant can’t even handle a little social interaction—

“Hey.” Chris is trying to get his attention again. “Why don’t we find a place for you to sit down for a little bit.”

Sebastian frowns, embarrassed and pissed and: “I’m  _fine_ —” he pulls away from Chris’s hands, taking a few steps back and shoving the tablet back into the bag as he tears it away from Chris’s shoulder. “I’m fine, just—”

“Chris. Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.”

Sebastian pulls the strap over his head, adjusting it briskly as yet another person approaches them. This time she’s a woman. And Sebastian just barely has enough time to dismiss her completely in favor of calming himself down before he looks up and sees Chris — or rather, the completely floored expression that’s sweeping across his face — brow furrowed slightly and mouth parted and body still.

But it’s nothing like when he saw Sebastian in his suit last night.

“Oh. …hi. I didn’t know you came to these.” Chris’s tone is careful. Calm, but careful.

Sebastian doesn’t know what to think.

“I figured this was a good year to start.” She’s smiling. She’s smiling and Chris isn’t. And now she’s looking over at Sebastian expectantly and…

Chris clears his throat, motioning towards him. “This is Sebastian. My assistant.” She nods and Chris tucks his hands in his pockets and… “Sebastian,” his tone is so so careful, “this is Julie.”

It…

Seb blanks.

It hits him.

It hits him like someone’s slamming their hand through his ribcage and squeezing his lungs and his heart and he—

He checks out. He checks out completely. He doesn’t really hear what they’re saying. Doesn’t know if either of them are talking to him. All he can do is stand there and watch and…this is  _Julie_.

She’s tall and confident and atrociously pretty and Sebastian instantly feels like he’s two inches tall.

Chris looks uncomfortable but not debilitatingly so. He looks upset but not as upset as Sebastian feels — as upset as Sebastian has no  _right_ to feel. He looks upset but they still look like they should be together. Like they’re the other half of the other person.

He glances between the two of them. Watching.

It feels like forever and he still can’t hear them and he’s about 93% sure he’s having an anxiety attack because he feels it in his chest and he’s starting to sweat and he needs to get out of here so he puts a shaky hand on Chris’s arm and grits out “Excuse me,” as normally as possible and then turns, doing his best to act calm as he puts one foot in front of the other and makes his way towards the door and out into the lobby and then he’s outside and he’s going around the corner and he shouldn’t be sitting on the ground in nice clothes but he props himself up on the brick wall and then slides down it, bringing his face into his hands and counting his breaths and everything’s okay everything’s okay everything’s okay.

The air is cool on his skin and that’s nice.

The buzzing of uptight voices is gone and that’s nice.

He’s all by himself and he doesn’t have to put up a front and that’s nice but—

Sebastian pulls the bag off over his shoulder and he can breathe a little better.

That’s nice.

His phone is buzzing in his pocket and the vibration is too much so he pulls it out and sets it next to him on the ground.

It feels better.

It’s nice.

He’ll be fine.

Everything’s okay.

“ _Seb_ , Jesus Christ—”

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that it’s Chris’s hands that are on him now. Fingers beneath his chin. Another putting a cold water bottle into his hand.

Sebastian still doesn’t open his eyes.

He’s got his breathing back down.

“Hey. Can you talk to me? Can I do something for you?” Chris is a worried mess and it’s transferring.

“Shut up,” Sebastian says. Point blank.

Chris doesn’t protest. He just sits. And now they’re both sitting in nice clothes in an alley.

Sebastian takes in a long, deep breath. Lets the air fill up his lungs. Lets his chest rise and become full from it.

When it starts to hurt he lets it go. Slowly. Calmly.

He hands the water bottle back to Chris and Chris opens it for him, handing it back.

When he’s taken a couple sips, Chris is speaking again, but this time his concern is quiet and gentle. “You okay?”

Sebastian wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both. “Are  _you_ okay?” When Chris fixes him with a look of confusion, he explains. “You’re the one who just saw your ex-wife.”

It feels gross to say. It literally makes him wince to hear the words coming out of his mouth.

Chris doesn’t seem that much better. “I’m more worried about you.”

Sebastian does laugh this time. Bitter and breathless. “Always.”

He takes another sip of water and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, running a hand through his hair.

Everything’s okay.

“Let’s go back to the hotel. You should probably lie down.”

Sebastian figures he should probably put up some sort of protest, but his body’s tired and his brain is yelling at him and he really does just wanna go lay down and knock out and not deal for a while.

Chris is already reaching over to where Sebastian’s phone is still laying on the ground, picking it up and slipping it into his own pocket. He gets the bag too, throwing it over his shoulder and then standing and bending over with his hands out.

Sebastian takes them. Lets himself be pulled up. Pulled back in front of the convention center. Pulled into a taxi. Pulled into bed.

It’s 6:30 and Sebastian falls asleep as soon as Chris helps him out of his clothes and his head hits the pillow.

—————

He remembers just barely waking up when Chris slips into bed — that hazy in-between of sleep and reality — because he sighs and very quietly says: “Sorry for making this about me…” and Chris wraps his arms around him and kisses the back of his neck and says: “You’re important.”

—————

More hours pass. Seb’s not sure how many because he’s passed the fuck out — probably snoring up a storm too. He only wakes up because he’s forced out of his dream — ripped from it completely by the sound of heavy knocking and a loud whining voice and then Sebastian’s  _up_.

“Chris,” he says, sitting up halfway and staring over by the door. “ _Chris_.”

“Mmnn.”

The knocking is loud and obnoxious and way too intense for 3 in the morning.

Sebastian pushes on Chris’s arm, jostling him. “ _Chris.”_

“Mm…what…”

“Someone’s here.”

The voice must register because then Chris’s eyes are opening and his brow is furrowing and he’s sitting up, listening closer as it rings out again:

_“CHRIS.”_

“Fuck.” Chris is scrambling out of bed before Sebastian can come to grips with what’s happening. “Fuck, it’s her.”

Seb stands, heart sinking as he grabs for his shirt and pulls it over his head. He’s only got his pants halfway on when the door is opening and “Chris, wait—”

“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing?” Chris is opening the door and closing it and there’s a lot of movement but Sebastian can’t see because the door is cornered off by the wall. But there’s definitely heavy breathing and then Seb hears it. Hears the voice in semi-normal but completely wasted volume.

It’s Julie.

It’s  _Julie._

Sebastian freezes in his spot — can’t move even when there’re more sounds from by the door and then Chris is saying: “You need to go. Wait—Julie  _stop_ —” and she’s made her way fully into the room in all her drunken glory, Chris grabbing at her arm but to no avail.

She stops when she sees Seb, her movements still swaying slightly as she drops the heels that were once dangling from her fingertips. Sebastian doesn’t know what to do.

“Ahh I get it now,” she slurs, a knowing smile creeping up just in time for Chris to follow her in, see what’s happened, and then close his eyes in what looks like…regret?

“Julie. You need to leave—”

“He’s a little young, don’tchya think, baby?”

Sebastian bristles, his brows knitting together in a glare because she can’t—she can’t call Chris that. Not after all this time. Not after insulting Seb like that. But Chris will stand up for him—for them.

“Okay look, I don’t know how you found my room but you need to go, alright?” Chris is seething with anger still laced with patience and it’s—he’s not even addressing what she just said. He’s not standing up for him and Seb. “It’s three in the goddamn morning and you’ve most likely woken up  _everyone_ on this floor. You need to leave.”

Julie chuckles to herself, her eyelids heavy as she stumbles over to where Chris is dragging a hand over his face. “Aw, c’mon baby. Just one more time, yeah? Like before.”

And it’s enough for Chris to lose it a little, his hands flying out and grabbing her by the shoulders to direct her towards the door as he looks over and: “Seb—”

“It’s okay, he can watch—” and then she’s leaning forward and getting all up in Chris’s space and pressing her lips to his and it wouldn’t be  _half_ as fucking jarring if Chris didn’t slip — didn’t freeze and wait half a beat, his eyes fluttering shut.

It’s only for a second. But Sebastian feels it. Feels it in his very core. And it doesn’t matter that after another breath Chris is pushing her away and going off on her because it still happened. It still happened and Sebastian is still standing there, feeling about two inches tall again, caught between the two of them and the door and how bad his heart fucking hurts.

He’s stuck.

He only vaguely hears Chris saying something about a taxi before he’s pulling her out the door.

And.

Sebastian’s still standing there.

—————

It’s useless.

Standing under the warm spray of the shower helps. For a little.

But then the steam and everything starts making him lightheaded. And he wants to maybe just sit and let the water wash over him, but deep inside he knows that that’s the cliché movie thing to do.

So he gets out. Towels off. Stands in front of the big mirror with the stupid overhead lights and sees how small he is. Sees how even with his suit hanging up behind him he’s still just…

What the fuck is he even doing? Why is he here? What ridiculous thing in his head thinks that Chris will settle for a stupid punk like him? Why  _would_ he? He’s got everything he fucking needs. Why would he settle for a kid who can’t support himself and freaks out at the very mention of his future?

Chris doesn’t need that.

Julie wasn’t like that.

Sebastian shakes his head. Rolls his eyes at himself. Digs his fingernails into his palm.

Jesus Christ, he’s such a brat.

It’s 3:34 and Chris still isn’t back from getting a taxi for Julie. Seb skips out on letting his brain fill in a bunch of nitty gritty details and lies down instead, bringing the bedsheets all the way up to just under his nose.

He knows that Chris comes back at 3:41 because he’s still up. Just lying there, eyes half-lidded.

Chris closes the door quietly. Leans against it for a second and lets out a long sigh. Then he’s toeing out of his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head and leaving his sweatpants where they end up on the floor.

The mattress dips down and air conditioning creeps up Sebastian’s spine as Chris slips under the blankets, slotting himself right up against Sebastian’s back and wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Sebastian lets the feeling swallow him whole — lets it take all of him until there’s nothing left to do except press back into him a little and murmur: “You okay?”

Chris is quiet. Doesn’t answer right away. Then: “Are  _you_  okay?”

Sebastian wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both. They’re right back in the alley again. “Mhm.”

He lets his eyes shut. Feels Chris’s warm breath ghost across the back of his neck as the older man sighs again — leaves a small kiss there. “That was really shitty. Sorry you were there for it.” He leaves another.

Sebastian feels it down to his toes.

Everything else is numb but he feels that fucking kiss.

Stupid.

He lets his eyes shut.

“S’fine.”

California is not what he thought it would be.


	14. Chapter 14

Sebastian wakes up to lips against his cheek — warm and soft and calm and pulling him gently from his dream.

“Mmn,” he grumbles, brow furrowing and mouth curling down into a frown.

“Morning, sunshine.” Chris’s voice is gentle, but Sebastian grumbles again anyway, eyes still closed. “Time to wake up.”

“ _Mmn…_ ”

“C’mon.” And then Chris’s arms are wrapping around Seb’s middle and he’s being pulled up and out from underneath the blankets like he weighs nothing, Seb letting out an indignant half-squawk as he lands in Chris’s lap, his back snug against Chris’s chest.

“ _Fuck—_ ”

“How are you today?” Chris asks him, like he didn’t just rip him from his treasured blanket cocoon. “Better?”

Sebastian has yet to open his eyes, still clinging onto the last shreds of sleep. “I ‘unno…” he mumbles groggily, “…just woke up…”

Chris hums behind him, snaking his hands around Sebastian’s middle again and resting his chin on Seb’s shoulder, his beard tickling his sensitive skin. They sit for a second before he speaks again. “What do you wanna do today?”

Sebastian waits a beat, confusion slow and muddy in his brain. “…huh?”

“We’re in California, right? What do you wanna do here?”

“…the… …what about the conference…?”

“We’re not going today.”

Sebastian finally opens his eyes, imaginary question marks flying everywhere over his head as he turns to look over his shoulder. “What? We’re not?”

Chris just shakes his head, his beard tickling Seb’s shoulder again. “Nope.”

“W—…why?”

The warm hold around his waist tightens a little, Chris taking a second to let out a breath before saying: “Well…I feel like we’ve earned a day off…after everything that went down yesterday.”

Sebastian blinks, brow furrowing yet again. “Wh—…but—”

“Unless you really wanted to go.”

“No.” That’s laughable. The very  _last_ thing that Sebastian wants to do today is go back to the conference. But… “Aren’t we gonna miss important shit?”

“Nothing that won’t be there tomorrow.”

That…makes sense, he guesses. It’s not like a lot of stuff changes from day to day. The powers that be just schedule it to be a week long so there’s enough time to see everything and meet everyone.

Chris presses a quick kiss to Sebastian’s shoulder. “So what’s it gonna be? What’s the schedule for the day, boss?”

There’s something about it that instantly makes Seb feel ten times better, and he doesn’t even know why. All he knows is there  _is_  one thing that  _has_ been on his mind since he knew they were coming to California. And Chris  _is_ asking what he wants to do. So… “If I tell you, are you gonna give me shit?”

Chris is smiling already. “I will not give you shit,” he states.

Sebastian doesn’t really believe him, but he says it anyway, glancing away and messing with the edge of the blanket beneath him as he asks: “…can we go to Disneyland?”

He doesn’t see how Chris’s smile curls into something fond, but he feels it against his skin. “Yes,” he says sweetly. “We can go to Disneyland.”

——————

It’s not like anything Seb’s read about — not like any of the shit he’s watched on Chris’s stupid-big TV at home.

Disneyland is big and loud and intense in all the very best ways. It’s bright colors and friendly people and just good vibes up the ass. (He actually said the phrase “good vibes up the ass” and Chris gave him an unreal amount of shit about it and made approximately six hundred butt plug related jokes so that kind of backfired, but yeah.) Point is, Disneyland is the fucking greatest, even with a shit ton of kids running around everywhere.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never been here,” Chris says halfway through walking down Main Street.

Sebastian’s too busy snapping pictures of damn near everything with his phone as they walk to offer any sort of sob story explanation. “What the fuck is that?” he asks instead, pointing to some weirdly shaped food thing in a little girl’s hand across the way.

Chris follows his finger, an eyebrow raising when his gaze lands on the food in question. “Have…you never had an ice cream sandwich before?”

“A what?”

Chris stares at him for a second. Then, without warning, he breaks off toward the food cart stationed at the side of the walkway.

“Seriously?” Seb asks when he returns with one wrapped in a napkin moments later. “You didn’t have to go and buy one.”

“It’s happening — make peace with it,” is Chris’s response, handing the ice cream sandwich over.

Sebastian blinks at him, but then takes it, glancing down at the sticky sweet vanilla ice cream that’s sandwiched between two thick chocolate chip cookies — and of course it’s shaped with mouse ears. Jesus Christ.

“It’s usually better if you eat it,” Chris hums casually, and Sebastian fixes him with an unimpressed look.

But then he takes a bite, the ice cream oozing between the cookies a little in the process. But  _fuck_ is it good — sweet and cool and damn, Seb doesn’t know if it’s actually this mind blowing or if everything is just better because they’re in Disneyland. He takes another bite either way.

It must bring some sort of adult-thing out in Chris, because he grins softly at him, reaching down to wipe his thumb over the stray ice cream at the corner of Seb’s mouth.

Sebastian grumbles, pulling away with a scowl and rubbing his mouth with his sleeve. “The fuck. I’m not a baby.”

But Chris is still smiling. “Maybe if you didn’t eat like a barbarian…”

Seb regards him with huff. “I eat fine enough to be with your fancy fuckin’ friends, don’t I?”

Chris laughs — “Sure thing…” — and then they start walking again.

—————

They must be here at some weird off-season time because they barely have to wait in line for much of anything (which is great for Seb’s attention span and all that).

They end up covering all of Tomorrowland and Fantasyland before his phone starts to run out of memory because he’s taken around half a trillion pictures of everything. (And before you ask,  _yes_  he needs all those pictures of those flowers — California flowers are different than New York flowers.)

Chris humors him, stopping every time to wait for him to catch up. He even lets Seb take half a dozen selfies of them together in front of random things — the Castle, a Buzz Lightyear thing, that King Arthur’s sword thing in front of the gigantic carrousel, all the things.

Seb knows it’s Chris trying to make up for the complete and utter horse shit that happened yesterday — the whole springing his future on him thing and all the Julie bullshit — but that fact somehow doesn’t make this experience any less than it is. If anything, it makes Sebastian’s heart hurt in a whole other way. A good way. A Chris-skipped-out-on-work-stuff-and-took-me-to-Disneyland-instead-because-he-feels-bad-and-wants-me-to-be-happy way.

And how can you  _not_ be happy at a place like this? It’s fucking impossible. It’s like they brainwash you as soon as you step through the gates, and then you have no choice but to have rainbows shining out your ass and to feel six trillion times better because there’s bright shit all around you and all those face characters who really know what they’re doing as they walk around.

“I can definitely see you as Peter Pan,” Chris mentions honestly as they walk past the character in question.

The guy’s probably Seb’s age anyway, cute and energetic and decked out in green as he runs around with zero attention span, and Seb’s not entirely sure if that’s a compliment or not, but: “I’d be the best Peter Pan ever.”

“You would.” Chris solidifies his point by grabbing one of the Peter hats helpfully for sale on a nearby stand, plopping it down onto Sebastian’s head with a tiny grin. “Aw.”

Sebastian checks himself out in the mirror nearby, his hair laying in perfect Peter Pan style under the green hat. He reaches up and runs his fingers along the bright red feather sticking out of the fabric. “Nice.”

“Hey.”

Seb turns, gaze innocent until he sees that Chris has lifted his phone to take a picture. He flashes his best smile, the shutter sound clicking as Chris presses the button.

“Yep,” Chris sighs with a thoughtful smile as he stares down at the picture. “A kid who consistently causes trouble and refuses to grow up. You’re pretty much him already.”

Sebastian’s smile falters into something sarcastic but still amused, an eyebrow raising as he reaches out and flicks off the camera.

“Classy,” Chris hums, but then the shutter sound is going off again.

“It’s the creepy fuckers walking around in full body costumes that I don’t trust,” Sebastian mutters, ignoring how Chris snorts a tiny laugh as he looks at the picture on his phone. “I’d rather be around the face characters any day.”

Chris hums again, apparently flicking through the other photos as he speaks. “Mm. And that has nothing to do with the fact that Gaston was hitting on you, right?”

Sebastian flusters, memories of the buff character actor returning in full force. “He was  _not_ hitting on me.”

That earns a quick laugh. “He definitely was.”

Seb wants to put up a little more of a fight, but there’s a good chance that thinking about it any more will make him blush, and then how the fuck is he supposed to save face? “Whatever,” he mumbles, plucking the hat from his head and reaching out to hang it back up on the stand. “You’re just jealous because some muscly guy other than you was giving me attention.”

The hat doesn’t make it onto the stand, Chris snatching it from Sebastian’s hand before it can. “Why would I be jealous,” he says, finally looking back down at him again with a subtle grin, “when  _I’m_  the one here with you?”

It’s just sweet enough without being gross that Seb can’t justify a sarcastic comment. So he just rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, does a few more immature things, and then follows Chris as he makes his way toward the cashier with the hat in his hand.

“I’m not wearing that while we fuck, I hope you know.”

Chris smirks. “ _You’re_  the one bringing it up.”

——————

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch. They stroll around and they take more pictures and they eat a lot more than they probably should, but somehow it doesn’t matter that popcorn is ten fucking dollars here because Chris doesn’t act like it is. So it isn’t.

When it gets dark, they head over to the California Adventure Park across the way because it’s all lit up and boardwalk-y and pretty. It’s about nine o’clock, so a lot of the  _little_ little kids are gone — tucked away back at their hotels right next to their conked out parents.

Seb and Chris just stroll down the walkway, taking in the lights on all of the rides and the signs as they walk. It’s relaxed and peaceful and not something Seb really expects to experience, especially when they hop on the enormous Ferris Wheel — the one with the sun in the middle that looks out over the water.

The breeze is calming as they move, their closed-in car slowly climbing higher and higher into the night sky.

Sebastian glances down into the water, his head tipping a little as he does so.

It’s when Chris speaks across from him.

“Hey, so…I wanna talk to you about last night.”

Their car isn’t sinking but it suddenly feels like it is — like it’s just snapped from the wheel’s frame and is crashing down into the water.

Sebastian glances over at him. Careful. “…yeah?”

“Yeah.” Chris is careful too. “It’s pretty obvious that it upset you — and you have every right to be upset. But I just want you to know a couple things so you don’t keep going at this thinking the wrong things.”

Sebastian watches him. Brow furrowing ever so slightly. “What kind of things.” It’s not even a question.

Chris hears it. “Things like…” he glances out into the night for a moment, seeming to get his thoughts in order. “Things like…Julie’s not actually a complete asshole.”

Sebastian frowns — can’t help the eyebrow quirk of disbelief.

Chris sees it too. “I know what you’re thinking. And trust me, if those two instances were the only moments I had to make a judgement about her, I’d be right where you are right now. Without a doubt.” His voice is calm. Sympathetic. Honest. “But seriously. That’s not actually her.  She was just hammered and made a lot of bad decisions all at once. We’ve all been there.”

Sebastian wants to cross his arms. Wants to pout and act like a child but — what Chris is saying holds a lot of merit.  _He_ would be the one to know exactly what she’s like. What she’s  _really_  like. He was married to the woman for however many years. He knows her — really knows her outside of those two times Seb met her.

It feels awful to say. It hurts his chest and feels gross on his tongue but he has to say it — has to ask what’s been on his mind ever since that stupid kiss he was trapped into watching. “You still love her though, right?”

Chris sits back into the seat, his brows furrowing. “Seb. What you have to understand is that when you’re married to someone—… It’s—… The attachment doesn’t just go away. You’ve spent a certain amount of time with them — invested your entire life into them — told them things… It’s not something that you can just switch off after a certain amount of time. Even if they completely fuck you over.”

Sebastian shifts in his seat, glancing back out into the sky. They’ve stopped moving. He says it again. “So you still love her, though.”

It floats between them.

Chris sighs.

“There’s a difference between being in love and being emotionally attached.”

Sebastian doesn’t look at him. “And what are you.”

They’re not questions anymore. Never really were in the first place.

Their car sways as Chris gets up — swings around to come sit next to him.

“Hey,” he says, and when Seb doesn’t look at him, he reaches out and takes his hand. “ _Hey_.”

Sebastian’s brows come together even more. Because he doesn’t really need this right now. He doesn’t need Chris to sit here and tell him—

“Listen. I stopped loving her a long time ago…and it fucking kills me that there’s still that last bit of attachment there.” He waits a beat. Waits for Seb to say something. Look over. It doesn’t happen. So he sighs, shoulders slumping forward a little bit. “It’s… When we had our time together in the past, it was great and everything, but that’s where it is. In the past. And for good reason, too. I don’t want anything to do with her now.” He squeezes Seb’s hand. Lowers his voice a touch. “Especially not after everything that’s happened in the last few months.”

Sebastian’s heart aches a little at that. Because…well… _they’re_  what’s happened in the last few months. They’ve barreled headfirst into each other’s lives as awkwardly as possible and stayed there — grown around each other and formed all these new attachments and Sebastian just…he just… “So…you really don’t wanna be with her?”

It’s a little sad and pathetic with how his voice is so soft, but Chris reaches out anyway — brushes a finger underneath Seb’s chin and gently turns him toward him. Sebastian takes another second before finally bringing his eyes up — seeing the heartbreaking honesty reflecting in Chris’s eyes as he says: “I really don’t…” and then tilts his head down to press his lips against Seb’s.

And Seb’s not used to this — not used to the unsolicited affection — the kiss just to kiss — the warm brush of lips that doesn’t serve as a starting point to something more intense. He’s not used to it. But god damn does it feel good and make his heart soar and plummet at the same time, and he lets himself get carried off by it — lets his eyes flutter shut and a fond sigh escape — kisses back with an unhurried devotion that scares him a little bit because this is so far-separated from their documented dynamic that he’s sure their car is going to plummet into the water at any moment.

But it doesn’t. And Chris brings a hand up and strokes a thumb over Seb’s cheekbone. And all Sebastian wants to do is crawl into his lap and wrap himself around him and just  _be_.

They don’t notice that the Ferris Wheel has started moving again, and Seb’s almost 95% sure that those fireworks going off are the metaphorical ones in his head, but turns out they’re actually real — lighting up their car with short bursts of white and yellow and dull blue.

Sebastian gently tangles a hand into the front of Chris’s shirt and lets out a contented sigh.

Chris leaves a kiss on his forehead.

It’s so cheesy and cliché but he’ll defend it until the day he fucking dies.

——————

They don’t go to the last day of the conference right away.

Seb tells Chris that he wants to talk to those design people at the booths today, so they stay in their hotel room and Chris helps him prepare — does mock conversations with him — helps him form some solid things to say in order to talk himself up — clues him into the buzzwords that these people want to hear.

And it’s a little nerve-wracking even with just Chris, but it helps him astronomically because when Sebastian takes a deep breath and then pushes himself to walk up to one of the booths, he’s not going in cold. He knows what he’s going to say. 

And at first he glances up to where Chris is not so secretly overseeing him from across the room, Chris flashing him a smile and a sweet little nod, but eventually he doesn’t even need to look. Eventually he just carries on the conversation and  _yes_ he ends up saying some weird stuff and stumbling over his words quite a bit, but the people he talks to don’t seem entirely turned off by it.

He scrolls through his work on the tablet and apparently they’re more interested in his designs than his people skills because he gets three business cards, one woman even expressly saying that she’s looking forward to hearing from him after he graduates.

He returns to Chris with a rush of adrenaline, the smile absolutely impossible to wipe from his face as he holds out the three business cards with a flash and a tiny little hop that probably gives away his age but he’s too fucking stoked right now to care and they’re high-fiving anyway so who even gives a shit.

“Oh my God, that’s great Seb!” Chris is smiling too, bright and excited and happy. “Look at that.”

Sebastian grins, staring down at the cards like they’re bricks of gold or something. “I’m awesome.”

“You  _are_ awesome.”

And there’s just so much going on inside of him all at once — all the nervous energy lighting up and morphing into something positive and airy and electric all at the same time. “I could climb a fucking mountain right now.”

Chris laughs, running a hand over his face. “Wow. Well I’m not sure about that—”

“Let’s go for a run. Let’s go for a fucking run.”

Chris’s brows furrow fondly as he reaches out, putting his hand palm-down on Seb’s forehead. “You must be sick.”

Sebastian giggles.  _Giggles_. “Nope, just stoked as hell.”

The giggling must be something that Chris hasn’t heard in all their months together, because he flashes Seb this surprised look for a moment before returning to his usual smile. “Well good. You should be.”

And he is.

And he stays stoked for the rest of the conference, Chris doing his thing but taking a moment every once in a while to bring the attention back to Sebastian’s accomplishment — that excitement still going strong in both of them.

On the taxi ride home, he reaches over and lightly scratches his fingers over the short hair at the back of Seb’s head, murmuring a sweet little: “I’m really proud of you.”

Sebastian sinks into it. Feels it in his core. Smiles warmly from the praise.

California may not have started out as what he wanted it to be, but they definitely leave on a high note.

—————

The plane ride back is just as bumpy.

“Turbulence,” Sebastian repeats under his breath every time they hit an air pocket, his hand flying out to grab onto Chris’s arm as the plane dips down.

Chris pats his hand reassuringly.

They land without dying and Seb considers that a plus.

—————

New York is exactly the same as it was when they get back.

Chris does his designs and there’s a lot of Coldplay and Sebastian has to go back to school but it’s okay because he figured everything out before he left, so it’s like he wasn’t even gone in the first place. (Except, of course, for Chace and Mackie practically tackling him as soon as they see him.)

Point is, things are back to normal, and that’s exactly how he wants it to be, because that means they pick up right where they left off.

It’s only their first night back when Sebastian slides the thin black remote into Chris’s hand, Chris not waiting very long before hitting the second setting and the butt plug vibrating to life and catching Sebastian off guard after going so long without it.

They’re sitting on the couch watching a movie, something that Chris picked out so Seb’s not even entirely fired up about it — which means there’s less to distract him as he sits there, squirming around on the couch cushion and getting unapologetically hard as Chris pretends not to notice.

That is, until they hit ‘three’ and Seb lets out a whimper of a moan, his eyes closing and his head falling back against the couch.

“Hhh…fucking shit…” he moans under his breath.

Chris barely acknowledges him, nonchalantly mumbling: “Everything okay over there?”

Seb bites his bottom lip, eyes still closed. “Stellar.”

It pulls a nod out of Chris, who hasn’t looked over from the movie once. And there’s just something about it that really gets to Sebastian and makes it all better — he doesn’t know why, but one of these days he’ll figure it ou—

“ _Mm_ ohfuck…”

Silence. Then:

“Do I need to pause the movie?”

“N—no,” Sebastian’s voice has gone breathy now, the plug hitting right on a spot that makes his knees go weak even though he’s sitting down. “No, so—ahh… Sorry…”

Chris doesn’t say anything.

Sebastian swallows roughly.

People in the movie are cheering.

Then they hit setting ‘four’ and Sebastian can’t do it anymore — can’t sit there and pretend like a good boy— so he pulls himself away from the couch — just fucking rolls over until he’s settled in Chris’s lap, fisting both hands in Chris’s shirt as he crashes their lips together and it’s a different angle and—

“ _Fuck_ —”

Chris kisses him back without missing a beat, one hand supporting his neck and the other trailing down his back — up under his shirt — dipping teasingly shallow under the back of his sweatpants. Seb rolls his hips down against Chris’s, getting that friction that he so desperately needs as their cocks rock against each other through their pants and  _fuck_ yes Chris is already hard—

Chris leans forward, shifting their bodies to the side and over until he’s bringing Sebastian down under him, their lips never leaving each other. Seb’s back hits the couch cushions and then Chris is hovering over him, the plug remote still in one hand as he lifts Seb’s shirt with the other and mouths a hot line of kisses down his stomach.

Sebastian can’t help but lean up to watch, Chris’s beard feeling like fucking heaven as it grazes against sensitive skin, lower and lower and lower and then his sweatpants are being tugged down and Seb doesn’t have time to do anything but feel his mouth drop open as Chris wraps his lips around his cock and  _fuck fuck fuck they’ve never done this before —_ he’s always the one to give head but here’s Chris swirling his tongue around him and it’s that and the vibration and Sebastian can’t deal — just fucking  _loses it_  — his head falling back against the couch as he comes, back arching ridiculously as the vibration stops but Chris doesn’t — pulls him through it and he’s definitely swallowing and Sebastian doesn’t know how to wrap his mind around this so he just squeezes his eyes shut, hands coming up to cover his face and words he doesn’t recognize falling from his lips as he breaks down.

Chris takes him through the whole thing — works Sebastian through his shuddering moans and shaking hip — sweet movements and an accomplished hum as he licks at the head one more time and then pulls off.

A moment of heavy, satisfied breathing passes. Then he reaches up to pull Seb’s hands away from his face.

“Okay?” he asks sweetly as he looks up at him.

And Sebastian doesn’t know how to put enough words together to express just _how_ okay that was. So he pulls Chris up instead, threading fingers through his hair and slotting their lips together and tasting that bitterness there as Chris’s tongue slides smoothly over his.

He…maybe has a moment.

Because…

Okay.

So he guesses  _some_ things aren’t exactly the same as they were before they left.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for themes of depression

They’re all supposed to be watching the game — Chris and Seb and Chris’s volleyball bros — but one thing leads to another and one beer turns into five and then suddenly the game is completely forgotten and Sebastian is left to wonder with wild amusement just  _who_ exactly in this strange relationship is the immature partier.

“No, just stay here,” Chris had told him when Seb offered to leave the flat before the team came over.

And that had led Seb into an eyebrow raise and a: “Why? Who do they think I am?” because he may be a little naive but he knew for damn sure that Chris didn’t actually tell them that Seb was a sugar baby.

It was even more obvious in the way that Chris had offered a sheepish half-smile as he mumbled slowly: “I may have told them that you’re a friend’s kid that I have to take care of for a while.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah sorry.”

But now here they are, pounding down beers and laughing and the fact that Seb’s stuff is still scattered everywhere makes sense because he’s “a friend’s kid to take care of”, even if Seb gets rubbed the wrong way with every new invented relation to Chris.

But Chris is having a good time. A  _good_ time. And Seb actually ends up talking to Grillo for a little bit and he’s not as terrifying as he comes off as. Especially not when he’s letting Seb in on all the embarrassing stories about Chris during practice and tournaments. (Seb’s personal favorite is the one about the time Chris forgot to wear his Spanx under his shorts and went to dive backward so he could save a pass — but long story short, the swishy material wasn’t there to help him glide on the court, so he had a big red stripe of court-burn on one of his ass cheeks for two weeks.)

Chris must sense his manhood being damaged or something because he pops up right next to Grillo like a prairie dog, confused as to why the two of them are laughing their asses off.

It wouldn’t matter if they tried to explain it to him or not because he’s pretty gone — not that Seb can judge because he’s just as drunk, if not a tiny bit less.

It’s actually pretty fucking funny seeing Chris like this — all goofy grins and funny faces and some of his words slurring together as he yells at one of his friends across the room.

Seb doesn’t know when Grillo disappeared into the kitchen, but he’s literally pulled out of his thoughts and back into reality by Chris, who’s nudging at him with an endearing pout.

“Seb _astian_. What were you laughing about?” He says it with a bit of a whine and once again Seb wonders who the elder is.

“Nothing,” he grins devilishly, determined to keep the goldmine of embarrassing stories to himself for as long as possible, “Nothing he’s…Grillo’s… _ah_ —hey!”

It’s just then that he feels his phone being slid out of his back pocket, Chris snagging it from him with a determined glint in his eye. Seb doesn’t know what the fuck he’s trying to accomplish, but he grasps for it anyway, missing by just a hair.

“Chr _iiiis_  don’t…”

But it’s too late. The phones already in Chris’s hands and he’s sliding his finger over the lock and he’s about to do whatever it is he’s trying to do until—

Until—

“Oh.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian grumbles, lurching forward for his phone but missing again because it’s no mystery that his reaction time is shit when he’s been drinking.

But Chris is smiling — staring down at the screen with this weird sort of half grin/half puppy dog look. Seb would think it was cute if he wasn’t busy wanting to beat his face in. “You’re adorable.”

Sebastian takes the moment to snatch his phone back, glancing down at the picture that he set as his wallpaper for the home screen. It’s one of the selfies that they took together in Disney — the one in front of The Haunted Mansion where Chris is pulling a face like he’s scared. Seb stuffs his phone back into his pocket, embarrassed. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not stupid.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Call me.”

Sebastian throws him a look. “Huh?”

But Chris just raises his eyebrows a little. “ _Call_  me.”

Someone spills something in the kitchen but neither of them really seem to care — too preoccupied by this weird little drunk standoff they’ve got going on.

So Sebastian pulls his phone back out, fixes Chris with a stare, and then hits his name on his contacts list.

The familiar chirping of Chris’s phone sounds out through the rest of the testosterone-y sounds of the volleyball team plowing their way through the flat, and Seb honestly doesn’t know what the fuck Chris is on about until the phone is being held up to his face.

Because then he sees that…it’s…well it’s  _him_.

Chris has set Seb’s caller ID photo to the one of him flicking the camera off while wearing the Peter Pan hat. They both have matching Disney-related pictures of each other on their phones.

Well that changes everything.

“Th—you’re…”

He doesn’t know what to say. It’s…cute. Like… _hella_ cute.

Chris grins, completely unashamed as he hits a button to end the call. “Not stupid.”

Not stupid at all. “Well shit, we’re fuckin’ adorable.”

“Yup—”

“Most adorable here—”

“Obviously—”

“M’gonna go fight for your honor.”

Chris laughs, shaking his head. “‘Kay you go do that, Seb.”

And it’s like everything else that’s happening around them doesn’t matter — the spill in the kitchen out of sight and everyone else’s voices miles away. Because right now it’s just Chris — relaxed and happy and handsome as hell and Sebastian doesn’t even realize that he’s saying it until he hears his words slurring past his own lips. “I love you so much.”

It’s an out of body experience. He watches himself say it — hears it — sees how time slows down a little and drags between them and then Chris’s smile is evening out, loosening…falling…

…disappearing.

And Seb doesn’t really…

…know what to do…

Because now they’re standing there — Seb having said what he just  _said,_ and Chris not completely meeting the gaze that’s slowly turning into something as worried and thick and ugly as the knot in his chest feels.

So they stand there. And they sway a bit in their stances. And a tiny little pull tugs the stitched thread at Seb’s heart. And…

“Chris, get the fuck over here.”

The voice barely registers in Sebastian’s ears. Barely reaches him from where he feels like he’s standing six hundred miles away from Chris now.

But Chris hears it. And he glances up and meets that worried, ugly gaze. And he almost looks like he might say something —  _“Anything_ ,” Seb pleads in his head — but then a hand is shoving at his shoulder and he’s being turned around and directed into the kitchen and—

And Sebastian’s still standing there.

And he wonders how his chest can hurt in the same way that it did when he was left standing alone in the hotel room after Julie, but somehow still hurt in its own completely awful way.

It doesn’t matter. It’s a shit situation either way. 

The room is too stuffy. Too loud. Too many people.

He turns and heads for the balcony, sliding the glass door open and shutting it behind himself without noticing that Chris’s eyes are on him.

The night is clear for how rainy it was today, the clouds disappearing to leave the sky open and twinkling and impossibly pretty. Sebastian crouches against the wall and then sits, drawing his knees up to prop his elbows against.

It’s okay. Everything’s fine.

It’s not like he  _meant_ to say that. Not like he actually  _means_ it. He’s just drunk.

And he didn’t know what he was saying.

And it just slipped out.

And.

The stars blink down at him as he lifts his chin to glance up.

_And…_

He can hear the voices in the flat but they’re muted — words garbled — his eyelids are heavy — his chest hurts more than it should for someone who didn’t actually just get his real feelings crushed.

The first raindrop slides down his cheek. Then the next.

They sting his eyes.

Make it hard to see.

Make his bottom lip tremble a little bit.

Makes swallowing difficult.

But they keep falling and falling and falling. Trailing down his face one by one.

Seb closes his eyes and wonders why the rest of his body and the balcony aren’t getting hit.

—————

He wakes up still slumped against the wall the next morning — eyes bloodshot, nose red.

The alcohol is out of his system, leaving nothing but a heavy head and a gross twist in his stomach and the cold seeping dread of what’s left after his barriers from last night have crashed down around him.

It doesn’t matter if he’s drunk off his ass or stone-cold sober.

He’s in love with Chris.

—————

He gets  _now_  how completely fucking obvious it is. But he supposes he didn’t realize it sooner because he’s only been in love one other time in his life. And _that_ kind of “in love” doesn’t feel the same as  _this_ kindof “in love”.

 _That_ kindof “in love” was young and easy and convenient.  _That_ kindof “in love” was what Seb only figured  _must_ have been “in love” because he was attached and clingy and he felt better when “me” turned into “we” because he had someone there and still it was young and easy and convenient.

 _This_ kind of “in love” is not young and is not easy and is far on the opposite end of convenient.  _This_ kind of “in love” is dodgy but still all-encompassing and it’s got him by the shoulders and it’s been slowly sinking its teeth into him since before he can remember. Sebastian’s still attached and clingy — but he feels like that’s just the kind of “lover” he is. He loves with every last inch of his heart, even when he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

And he’s been doing it for much longer than he realizes.

Which is what makes this so hard. Because he can love Chris with all his stupid fucking heart but none of that means shit because it’s not like they can actually _be_ together. Not the way he wants them to be. It’s not like they can just be like “oh, okay,” and then live together forever and then get married and grow old together and all that sappy shit.

Because Chris is still Chris and Sebastian is still Sebastian. Just because Seb loves him, that doesn’t mean Chris stops being a successful 32-year old architect and Sebastian stops being a 20-year old punk with only a sliver of a future. The gap between them doesn’t go away and all the bullshit that’s happened in between doesn’t just disappear. And nothing that Seb can do will probably ever convince Chris that it’s okay.

And Sebastian knows that. Knows how incredibly  _fucked_ he is. Knows that Chris hasn’t even said a goddamn word about the subject in the half a day that’s passed.

Knows that the more time he spends here, the worse it’s going to get.

Knows that his heart is just going to keep eating it up more and more with every second he’s around Chris.

That’s the other difference. He didn’t have this problem with  _that_ kindof “in love”.

—————

He’s scared, he realizes.

Because Chris is acting completely normal while things inside Seb’s chest are cracking.

He’s business as usual and Sebastian’s tiptoeing around him and they’re most fucking definitely not on the same page but Seb’s too scared to turn it for him. So he just tries to get through the day, his thoughts everywhere else.

When Chris recognizes it, he asks. And Sebastian glances up and smiles weakly and shakes his head because maybe this can still work.

But it’s rough. And he feels weird. Especially when Chris comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him, lips just starting to trail softly down his neck. And it makes Seb’s stomach twist because it’s exactly what he wants but it’s different now and it feels weird and he winces and leans away from it all in the same breath, clearing his throat and pulling out of Chris’s hold and taking a few steps away and hoping that his discomfort isn’t glaringly obvious.

But it is. Because Chris is looking at him with this concerned frown. But he doesn’t push it.

Seb didn’t think he would.

Chris doesn’t push it when he leans in for a kiss the next night either, Sebastian’s heart caving in a little bit as he glances away and turns his head and starts with a half-hearted, “Uh…”

Chris doesn’t push it. Just frowns again and asks, “Everything okay?”

And Sebastian just swallows and nods and mumbles something about not feeling good.

It’s not that he’s  _trying_ to avoid affection. He  _wants_  it. He really  _really_  does. But there’s something about it that feels different and dangerous now because all it’s going to do is make Seb want Chris more. And he’s supposed to be avoiding that — already knows what he has to do — has already made up his mind about what needs to be done.

But he slips. He’s feeling tired and sad and vulnerable and when Chris brushes their lips together, he lets it happen. Lets Chris slide his tongue over his. Lets himself be lowered onto the couch before the dread starts seeping back in. Because it feels good.  _Really_ good. But… “…wait…”

He must not say it loud enough — doesn’t even know if hesaid it at  _all_ , to be honest — because Chris just keeps kissing him, liquid smooth and gorgeous and everything that Seb desperately needs and: “Chris…w—…”

But it feels weird. It feels weird it feels weird it feels weird. And Chris slides a hand up Seb’s shirt and it’s amazing to feel those big hands on him again but he can’t keep this up because he wants Chris to  _mean_ this and it feels weird and—

“Wait,” he says against Chris’s lips and he grabs Chris’s hands and he breaks away and he— “ _Stop!”_

Chris leans up like he’s been burned, swallowing roughly and concern etched deep in his brow as his eyes trail over Sebastian like he can figure out what’s happening and —

And…

And Sebastian’s shaking, his chest rising and falling much faster than it should be.

“What’s wrong.” It’s not even a question. Because Chris knows something’s up and has known for probably as long as it’s been happening and it makes Sebastian feel like he’s about two inches tall even though it’s supposed to make him feel better and everything is crashing down around him and he just—

“I wanna move back into my apartment.”

Chris stills.

Sebastian stills.

Everything around them freezes over — sudden and silent. Slow.

“…what?”

Seb takes a breath. Stares up at him. “…I need to move back…”

Chris slowly eases back, his eyes never leaving Seb as he does so. His lips part. Ready to speak. Nothing comes out.

This isn’t how Seb wanted to do this.

“…why?” Chris finally says. And it’s broken. Pieced back together to feign wholeness.

Sebastian considers telling the truth. Lays there and considers telling him how badly he’s hurting. How vital it is that he removes himself from the situation. How much he loves him. “I… It’d be easier.”

Chris stares at him. “For who?”

“Me.” That part’s not a lie.

But it lingers just the same.

“I can’t let you move back in there.”

Seb takes a breath. Steadies himself. Maybe it’s better it happened like this. “I need to.”

“You hated living there—”

“I need to go back—”

“But  _why?”_ Chris’s voice raises enough to make Sebastian sink back into the couch cushion out of reflex, his brows drawing together. He can see the confusion flaring there. The hurt.

He doesn’t have a good enough reason to tell him without going right out and saying  _“It kills me to be around you when I love you this much and you don’t even have the decency to at least tell me you don’t.”_ So he looks away. Frowns. Fucking  _refuses_ to let the tears welling up in his eyes fall because there’s no way he can convince himself it’s just rain this time. “I’m going.”

He doesn’t look at Chris. Doesn’t want to see whatever expression is flashing across his face as he says it. He just swallows and blinks it all back and feels how the cushion flattens out underneath him as Chris pulls away.

“If that’s…what you really want…”

All he feels is numbness. “I do.”

—————

Packing is fucking awful. He’s got stuff in the living room. Stuff in Chris’s den. Stuff in the bathroom.

Chris watches silently as bag after bag is packed, eyes downcast and arms crossed.

Sebastian steels himself into a state of constant unflinching motion. He does what he needs to do and holds it together and stuffs all of his shit away without so much as a single tear. But it stunts all of his other emotions too. So he moves around the flat gathering all his things and feels like he’s not even doing it — like he’s not even there. Sees Chris watching him but doesn’t let it anywhere near his brain or his heart.

He doesn’t let himself sit on the fact that he might be fucking up. Might be making a huge fucking mistake by not talking to Chris during the last short while he has to. Might be the dumbest fucking person in the world when Chris leans against the doorway and looks at him and mumbles, “Is this about what you said a few nights ago?” but Sebastian has shut himself out entirely. Has made his decision. Has ruled out any sort of redemption because that’s not how this kind of thing works. So he says, “No,” not even looking up from where he’s stuffing a shirt into a bag.

He hardens over and stays that way until Chris drives him back — back into the shitty neighborhood — back to his piece of shit apartment — back to broken floorboards and poor ventilation and a sense of hopelessness that punches him right in the gut as soon as he opens the door and steps inside and realizes that this is it.

They bring all his bags up and Sebastian doesn’t say anything. Chris glances around the apartment like he desperately wants to take him back to the flat and Sebastian doesn’t say anything. They turn back to the door and Seb opens it for him, but Chris steps forward and leans down and cradles Seb’s face with both hand and kisses him deeply. And Sebastian doesn’t say anything, but it tears a hole right through his heart and his fingers itch to pull him closer so he just lets his eyes flutter shut, drinking in the feeling of Chris’s lips against his. And when Chris pulls away after what feels like an eternity but still not long enough, Sebastian’s eyes are stinging, his lips drawing together in a hard line so the corners of his mouth won’t quiver down.

And then the door is closing.

And then he’s alone.

And Chris is gone.

And every ounce of energy that Seb spent steeling himself over crumbles apart and he slides down the door and buries his face in his arms and cries harder than when he realized that his dad was gone for good.

Because now Chris is gone for good too.

And it’s so much to take in that Seb literally can’t do it all at once, his body and his brain and his heart feeling like they’re going to burst.

It’s the first anxiety attack he’s had without Chris there to calm him down in a long time. And Chris is probably still just making his way out of the front door of the apartment complex as it happens.

—————

He sleeps through almost the entire first day alone.

He misses four classes.

He doesn’t answer when Chace calls to see where he is.

He wakes up long enough to see the calls, ignore them, and take a piss.

He goes back to sleep.

—————

He wakes up at a weird time of night because his body is all slept out.

He wakes up wondering where he is.

He wakes up looking for Chris.

He wakes up with an empty stomach and empty cupboards.

He wakes up to realize that all he wants to do is go back to sleep.

—————

It’s day three when he realizes that he still hasn’t unpacked anything yet.

It’s day three when he realizes that all the clothes he’s hanging up are the ones that Chris bought him.

It’s day three when he realizes that he’s got a hell of a lot more shit coming back than he did leaving.

It’s day three when he realizes that Chace isn’t going to stop calling him and leaving worried messages.

It’s day three when he realizes that Chris slipped an envelope into one of his bags — a wad of cash and a short note that says “please buy some healthy food for yourself”.

—————

Is it really ending things if he’s still living off Chris’s money? If Chris is still paying for his rent? For college? If he’s doing work on the laptop Chris bought him and crying to Chace on the phone that Chris gave him at that coffee shop?

 _“Do you want me to pick you up?”_ Chace asks on the other line after Seb caves and calls.

He couldn’t let him know exactly  _why_ he’s so sad, so he had bullshitted around it. And now he’s just… “No.”

_“Seb…you sound like you need someone.”_

He does. Desperately. “Fine,” he sighs. “But I’m at my old place.” He can tell that Chace’s silence is him trying not to ask  _why_  he’s at his old place, so he offers a noncommittal: “I had to deal with a few things here.”

And that must be enough for Chace, because before Seb knows it, he’s in Chace’s car and then in Chace’s apartment and then crying again, his head in his hands and Chace is grabbing a tissue box and putting a hand on his shoulder and Seb doesn’t even really have to  _say_ anything — doesn’t have to tell him that he misses the hell out of Chris and that this is supposed to be easier but not seeing him is actually harder and he just really wants to be with him again — because Chace just lets him cry without bugging him about  _why_.

He cries and he cries and somehow it’s a lot better than crying alone, because he has a calm voice to listen to — a pillow to rest his head on in someone’s lap — a hand to smooth over his shoulder and brush the hair out of his eyes.

It makes it easier. Even if it still feels like everything is falling down around him.

“Should I vow to go beat someone up for you, but then really just go get my ass kicked?” Chace asks him when the clock on the nightstand says it’s way too late to go home.

Seb chuckles quietly, sniffling a bit.

“I’d do it.”

“I know,” he smiles, and it feels weird on his face after so long without. “Please don’t try to beat someone up.”

They laugh a little bit, and then the numbers on the clock tick forward forward forward.

And Sebastian leans back.

And Chace leans back.

And their bodies curve against each other on autopilot and Sebastian falls asleep wondering what Chris is doing. How he’s feeling. If he’s thinking about him.

He falls asleep wondering if Chris is as desperately unhappy as he is.

—————

“Don’t call him,” Sebastian says to himself out loud.

It used to be enough to keep it in his head. But now he’s itching to pick up his phone every other minute.

He does homework the best he can. It distracts him for a little bit. But then it’s right back to—

“Fuck. Don’t call him.”

He’s too depressed to be horny and even if he  _did_  wanna pass the time jerking off, all he’d think about is Chris.

And he’s getting sick of being around Chace because Chace is handling him like he’s really as depressed as he is and that’s not what Seb needs right now. What Seb needs right now is—

“Don’t call him.”

“Don’t call him.”

“Don’t  _fucking_ call him, you piece of shit. You’re better than this.”

Because he is. Right?

He got himself out of a bad situation, right?

Time will pass and he’ll forget about Chris and he’ll be ready to love someone in his own fucked up little way again… 

…right?

—————

 

It’s been a week.

 

—————

 

It’s been a week and a day.

 

—————

 

It’s been a week and three days.

 

—————

 

“Don’t fucking call him.”

 

—————

 

How many days are supposed to go by until that whole “he’ll forget about Chris” thing happens?

 

—————

It’s been two weeks.

It’s been two weeks and Sebastian is pretty ready for his chest to stop feeling like it’s caving in at all times.

It’s been two weeks and Chace and Mackie convince him to go out and drink but Sebastian gets too drunk and ends up going behind the house they’re at and crying like an idiot and Chace can’t find him for half an hour.

It’s been two weeks and Sebastian is just fucking  _drained_.

—————

Chace won’t leave him alone now. Ever since he lost him behind the house. He texts him constantly. Never stops asking how he is. He won’t leave him alone.

Sebastian is starting to wonder if Chace thinks he’s gonna go and do something stupid.

He’s depressed, but he’s never given anyone a reason to think that he’d hurt himself or anything.

But Chace is sticking real close. And Seb wants to snap at him but he knows it’s just because he cares. So when there’s a knock on his door, Sebastian takes a deep, drawn-out breath, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

He pulls himself off his shitty mattress with a groan, running a hand through his hair and not bothering to wipe the unimpressed look that’s making its way across his face as he opens the door, because he gets that Chace is worried but that doesn’t—

Sebastian freezes.

His chest tightens.

It’s not Chace.

The air feels like it’s been punched out of his lungs as the distance closes and he’s being picked up turned and crowded against the closed door and “Chri—”

Their lips crash together painfully and Seb wraps his legs around Chris’s waist and he doesn’t even really 100% think this isn’t a dream until—

“I get it…fuck, I get it…” Because Chris is mumbling against his lips, using his weight to keep Seb snug against the door so he can reach up and run his hands down Seb’s neck — over his shoulders.

And Seb still doesn’t entirely know what’s going on but his heart is beating harder than it has in the last two weeks combined and he kisses back because this is  _Chris_. Chris is  _here_. Chris is  _holding_ him and  _kissing_ him and saying:

“I got it when you said it too but… It scared the shit out of me… Because you’re too important to lose…” he says it all between parted lips and breaks for air, each word hitting down deep in Seb’s soul. “But I lost you anyway… And that scares the shit out of me even more…” He cups Seb’s cheeks and kisses him like he had kissed him goodbye. “And you don’t have to come back but—… But I do too. I love you too.”

Sebastian checks out.

Feels Chris’s hands on his face.

Feels the tears sliding down his cheeks again.

“W—…what?” Because the possibility that he’s dreaming is looking better and better and—

“I love you.”

Chris says it with a kind of point-blank adamancy that Sebastian only heard when they were in the den, Seb in his lap as he draws up plans for buildings that’ll break the sky.

And Seb can’t deal…

“Wh—… Are you just saying that?”

Chris rests their foreheads together, his eyes closing. “Fuck no. Why would I just say that?”

“Because you miss me?” _Maybe not as much as I missed you, but you still miss me?_

Chris leans down. Plants another kiss on his lips. “I  _do_  miss you. But I’m still not just saying that.”

Sebastian lets his eyes fall shut, his brows drawing together. “Say it again, then.”

And Chris barely lets any time pass before he’s pressing a little closer. “I miss you. And I love you.”

Seb lets the words sink into him. Lets them write themselves on his eyelids and his wrists and that place in his heart that he thought was going to be fucked over forever. Because…

This isn’t a dream.

Sebastian leans forward, threading his fingers through Chris’s hair and pulling him closer and slotting their lips together because  _this isn’t a dream_. And Chris is kissing him back with a kind of honest urgency that he’s never seen before — an urgency that makes Seb wrap his arms around his neck when Chris pulls him away from the door and carries him across the room toward the mattress in the corner.

He lays Seb down over the thin bed sheet but keeps the distance between them at almost nothing, kissing a long line down his neck and biting ever so slightly at his collar bone and Sebastian just lets his hands wander — runs them over Chris’s chest and his back — brushes his fingers through the soft short hair of Chris’s beard.

“Fuck I missed you,” Sebastian whispers and then he’s fucking crying again — probably didn’t even stop between then and now.

But Chris is right there to kiss him and stay close and mutter sweet things as Sebastian clings onto him.

“Seb, it’s okay,” he says, because the younger man is obviously terrified to let go. “If you think I’m gonna let you walk out without explaining yourself again, you’re out of your damn mind.”

It’s just the thing to say — just snarky enough to sound truly like Chris that Sebastian has to huff out a tiny laugh. “Still gonna hang onto you…”

Chris smiles, leaving another kiss against Seb’s neck. “Please do.”

So he does. He hangs on and he keeps their bodies pressed together because he thought he’d never get to feel this ever again and the whole thing is just so surreal that for a little bit, he feels like he has to take advantage of it.

But then things even out. And he can feel Chris’s smiling against his neck. And all the heavy feelings that had settled on his chest and in his gut lighten a little and Seb lets his eyes close. Lets his tongue sweep over his bottom lip to wet it as Chris drags his teeth so fucking lightly over his collar bone again. Lets himself roll his hips forward and hear the little hitch in Chris’s breath. Lets himself smile as Chris ruts back against him, their bodies moving in a slow drag that gradually gets faster and deeper and dirtier until Seb’s letting out a breathy little moan.

“Please tell me you have lube,” Chris pants against him.

Seb bites his lip, voice gravelly. “You barged through my door to make out with me without any lube?”

“I wasn’t exactly running on common sense.”

Sebastian chuckles, rolling his hips up and kissing Chris one more time before pushing up on his chest. “Gimme a sec.”

Chris rolls off of him, just out of breath enough to show how badly they do need the lube. Luckily for them, Seb did a shit job unpacking. Which means he knows exactly which bag it’s still in.

He unzips the pocket and grabs the bottle in a rush, not bothering to re-zip it before straightening and heading back toward the mattress where Chris is pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Aw,” Seb practically pouts as he moves down to straddle his lap, “ _I_  wanted to do that.”

Chris laughs, throwing his shirt to the side and going for the edge of Seb’s in one fluid motion. “Sorry.”

It doesn’t take long for the rest of their clothes to come off, both of them settling into the rhythm that they almost perfected together before Seb left.

And then it’s like no time has passed at all — Chris solid and warm and reliable beneath him as Seb moves on top of him, thighs burning and heart pounding and back arching as he lowers himself onto Chris again and again — Chris’s big hands on his narrow hips.

And Seb doesn’t know if he feels like crying again because he’s so fucking happy or  _what_ , but his brows are furrowing and his moans are getting higher pitched and he almost doesn’t make it before there’s a tingling at the base of his spine and he’s getting close and he just kind of: “Chris…”

“It’s okay,” Chris says and Seb doesn’t even realize that it’s what he needs until he hears it. “It’s okay, Seb.”

“M’close.”

“Gonna come for me?”

Sebastian groans, moving faster and faster and— “ _Chris—_ ”

“Come on, Seb. Come for me, baby—” he says and it makes the warmth even better and— “C’mon, baby boy.”

—Seb loses it, back arching and head tilting back and voice strangled and he doesn’t even care that the walls are paper-thin because he fucking  _needs_ this — needs this with— “ _Fuck Chris—_ ”

And then Chris is coming too, both of them higher than they’ve ever been and hands everywhere and Sebastian swears he could die right now and still be completely satisfied because he’s here with Chris and Chris is pulling him down and pressing their lips together and saying: “I love you, Seb…” and he’s not sure what the fuck could possibly be better than this.

That is, until Chris rests their foreheads together again, voice deep and calm as it washes over both of them. “Can you come back home…?”

And Sebastian lets his eyes close, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was really fuckin’ hoping you’d ask that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more chapters left!


	16. Chapter 16

Moving back to the flat is beyond easy because Seb barely unpacked his shit at his apartment in the first place. Chris stays the night after their emotional-reunion-sex.  _Stays the night._ In Seb’s piece of shit apartment. Instead of going home to his big king sized bed in his perfectly modern flat. He stays because he wants to be with Seb.

And Seb’s pretty fucking sure that can’t mean anything other than love.

—————

The flat is the same, except for a couple things out of place.

There are some dishes in the sink instead of in the dishwasher.

Some dress shirts are left on the floor near the door to the laundry room, two or three ties left in the pile as well.

Sebastian watches as Chris picks them up and chucks them behind the door while he walks by. Like it’s just a little mess. Like it doesn’t really matter.

And it wouldn’t, if Sebastian didn’t already know that Chris likes to keep the flat as spotless as possible.

 

—————

 

One of their favorite new things to do now is get high and then cuddle up for as long as they can stand (see translation: before Seb starts getting horny and therefore handsy). They pass the joint around a few times on the couch (it’s way too cold to do it out on the balcony anymore), and then Seb climbs into Chris’s lap and nuzzles his face into the side of Chris’s neck and buries his arms between the couch and Chris’s back and then they just sit. Just chill.

Sometimes Chris lightly runs his fingers through Seb’s hair — over the back of his neck — it’s once those fingers trail down the notches of his spine that Seb starts to get a little handsy as well.

It only backfires once — riding Chris on the couch while they’re high as shit — because Seb arches his back maybe a little too excitedly and loses his balance and then he’s tumbling backwards — off the couch and off Chris’s dick and by the time his ass makes impact with the floor, both of them are laughing too hard to even give a shit.

 

—————

 

Here’s how the conversation goes:

“My mother wants to go to the aquarium.”

“‘Kay.”

“No— Seb, she wants you to come with.”

“Huh?”

“She asked me to ask you if you’d be interested in coming to the aquarium with us.”

“Why me?”

“Did you forget that my mother loves you for some reason?”

“For like half a minute, yeah.”

“So what…do you wanna go, or what’s happening?”

“I haven’t been to the aquarium since I was little.”

“So is that a yes, or—”

“Will there be seahorses there?”

“Wha—… Yeah I dunno. Probably. So you wanna—”

“What about jellyfish?”

“Sebastian, my mother is literally on the other line waiting for an answer.”

And that’s how Seb ends up walking around the city aquarium with Chris and Mrs. Evans, completely fucking spellbound by all the different things to look at — all the different fish and turtles and squid and shit. He barely remembers the place, and it’s definitely a lot cooler than he was expecting. And his amusement must be showing.

“So I thought you were just really excited about the jellyfish, but it looks like you’re gonna be pushing your face against  _every_ tank we look at.”

“Oh hush, Christopher. Don’t tease him.” Mrs. Evans is quick to defend.

Seb glances up from the tank he most definitely  _does_ have his face practically pressed up against, fixing Chris with a subtle smirk. “Yeah, Christopher.”

It earns him a narrow-eyed look.

Mrs. Evans just smiles and loops her arm around Seb’s and leads him to the next tank.

It’s the one with the seahorses — tiny and yellow and bumpy and just overall really fucking adorable. Two of them have their tails wrapped around the other’s and are just kind of chilling there, floating around without care because as long as they keep their tails curled together, they’ll always have the other one nearby.

Chris joins Seb and his mother, and Sebastian can’t help the giddy smile that curls the corners of his mouth. “I want seahorses.”

“We’re not getting seahorses,” Chris deadpans.

And it only takes three seconds for it to register in Seb’s head.

Oops.

Mrs. Evans glances over at them, her arm still linked with Seb’s. But if she catches onto the fact that they just slipped up a little, she doesn’t let it show. She just looks at both of them, Seb busy trying to school his expression, before letting out a sweet little hum, “They  _are_ very very cute.”

And then that’s it. And as she leads them to the next seahorse tank, Seb glances back at Chris and flashes him with a flustered but still amused smirk.

They’re on their game after that.

No slip ups.

But let’s be clear, Seb really  _does_  still want seahorses.

 

—————

 

There are a ton of things that the two-week period of being alone left Sebastian missing. Like sleeping next to Chris. And not having to worry about food.

And then, of course, there’s the butt plug.

“Hhhoh…” Seb breathes out quietly, straightening in his seat and bringing a hand up to work at the knot of his tie.

This was his idea.

He brought this upon himself.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Chris asks calmly from across the table, his menu lowered just enough that he can keep tabs on Seb without appearing to be.

He’s either talking about what on the menu looks good, or what’s going on in Seb’s mind right now as they slowly approach the third plug setting in the middle of a fancy-ass restaurant that they could totally get kicked out of with their current shenanigans.

Or maybe he’s talking about both.

Yeah. He’s probably talking about both.

Seb swallows, his eyes shutting for a second like it’s going to help him gain some sort of composure or something. It doesn’t really. “Uh…” he mumbles, looking down at the menu that he’s currently manhandling as he tries to calm down. “Not…super sure…may—mm—”

“Are we ready to order, gentlemen?”

Sebastian doesn’t even see the waitress until she’s damn near on top of him, her hands folded behind her back as she presents her best smile.

Chris glances across the table, waiting for Seb to just sort of nod noncommittally because this is going to be a shit show and a half no matter what, so it’s not like knowing what he’s actually going to order will help him anyway.

Chris does his thing, taking his time so Seb can glance over the menu one more time as a sort of last minute attempt to act normal. But you can glance over a menu as many times as you fucking want and still be on the cusp of losing it underneath the table, he realizes quickly.

But Seb can do this. His face is probably super fucking red but he can do thi—

“And for you, sir?”

Okay. Okay.

…okay.

“Uh…” Crap. His voice is already shaky and weird. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat a bit. “Yeah can I uh…” the plug hits up against something devastatingly great and Sebastian has to take a second. Swallow. Clear his throat again.

“Would you like a recommendation, sir?” she asks, and Seb can’t even look up at her because he feels like his face is burning a thousand degrees.

“Sh…sure,” he chuckles weakly.

She starts rattling off a long list of different shit.

Chris is giving him this  _look_.

Sebastian runs his tongue over his bottom lip and balls his hand into a fist under the table. “Yeah sure that—that last one would be great.”

Yes. He did it. He’s home free.

“And what for a side, sir?”

 _Fucking hell_.

“Uh…”

“Soup or salad, sir? We have minestrone—”

“Yeah that.” He jumps at the first one, swallowing roughly as the plug just fucking goes to town inside of him and he has to close his eyes again, his head tilted down so she doesn’t see. “That’s great. Thanks.”

He hands the menu up to her, his hand shaky and obvious and when she leaves, Sebastian can’t help but run a hand through his hair and chuckle weakly again.

“ _God_ …”

“You did good.”

“She could tell.”

“She couldn’t tell.”

Seb glances up at Chris, who’s still giving him that  _look_. “ _You_ can tell.”

Chris smirks. “I’m the one with the remote.”

It makes Seb flush even more. God damn it. “Don’t think I can—nnoh fuck…”

“Alright, I’m turning it off.” Chris declares, his gaze trailing over the younger man’s body. “Don’t wanna ruin that suit.”

And there’s a part of Sebastian that wants to protest — say “No, I can do this…” — but the majority of his body realizes that it’s actually probably a good idea. And he  _is_ in his totally sick suit that he wore in California.

So. “Fine.”

Turns out the thing he randomly ordered is actually pretty good.

Until he realizes there’s shrimp in it.

He’s allergic to shrimp.

 

—————

 

Days pass.

The overwhelming evidence that Sebastian took the separation harder than Chris is stacking up.  

Their reactions are leagues apart.

Sebastian had slept for almost three days straight. Chris had left a few dishes in the sink.

Sebastian had ignored his friends and isolated himself in his shitty apartment. Chris didn’t do laundry for a little bit.

Sebastian had cried more than he really cares to admit and Chris…Chris—

The familiar sound of the older man’s phone rings through the living room, scaring Seb half to death. The melody keeps trucking on, Sebastian maneuvering himself out of his blanket cocoon to see who’s calling, because Chris might be in the shower right now, but if it’s important enough Seb can bring the phone to him.

When he reaches it and glances down at the screen, he finds a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It’s Mrs. Evans. The call goes to voicemail but it’s okay, because Chris can just call her back when he’s out of the show—

Something in Seb’s stomach sinks as the message pops up on the screen — point blank and unmistakable.

Missed Calls: 6

That’s… Chris  _never_ misses calls. And if he does for some reason, he  _always_ fixes it right away. Yet here they are, the message speaking volumes as Sebastian stares down at it. Six?  _Six?_

He knows he shouldn’t do it, but Seb’s morbid curiosity gets he best of him — pushes him to slide the lock on Chris’s screen open and thumb through the missed calls.

Thailand. One from somewhere in Germany. A worrying  _three_ from London.

And the dates of the calls all fall somewhere during the two weeks that Seb was gone.

Did Chris…?

He hits play on the last of the voicemails from London before he can stop himself, clutching the phone to his ear as he listens to the woman’s voice on the other end.

_“We need confirmation that you’ve made progress on the executive building plans that we had discussed a few weeks prior. This is the third and final attempt to make contact with you, and if we can’t establish some sort of connection after this, I’m afraid we’ll have to go with the company’s second choice. You can reach us at—”_

Sebastian ends the call. Lets the phone fall into his lap. Can’t lift his gaze from the floor.

Chris gave up a project.

Chris  _gave up a project_.

A door opens on the far end of the hallway.

Sebastian puts the phone back on the table where it was. Doesn’t really notice Chris walk into the living room. Wonders if the calls from Germany and Thailand where jobs that got given up too. Realizes with a pit in his stomach that maybe their reactions to the separation weren’t so polar opposite after all.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.

And Sebastian doesn’t look at him. “Nothing.” Doesn’t say anything but, “Your mom called.”

 

—————

 

Sebastian doesn’t tell Chris that he knows about the projects — pretends to not notice that Chris is in his office working his ass off for like two days straight to make up for it. He just brings him coffee and rubs his back and rests his chin on his shoulder as he watches and  _sometimes_ , if things aren’t too hectic, he settles in Chris’s lap and it’s like before.

But he doesn’t tell him that he knows about the projects.

“I love you,” Chris mumbles softly into his neck one night, the overhead lamp casting a sweet glow down onto them.

And Sebastian swears he’s never gonna get sick of hearing him say that.

 

—————

 

It’s New Years Eve.

It’s New Years Eve and they figured out a solid way that both Chris’s friends and Seb’s friends can party at the flat without it being weird.

It’s New Years Eve and Chris and Seb are fucking  _wasted_.

“And you were—you were all ‘ _nnnooo Chaaace I dunwannago to Chris’s he’s stealing Seb away’_.” That’s Chace. Chace is also fucking wasted. Chace is so fucking wasted that he’s using honest to God air quotes with his fingers.

Cue Mackie. “Man I didn’t—…didn’t say thatshit…” Fucking wasted.

But they all laugh and hang all over each other and Chace won’t stop touching expensive things but Chris doesn’t seem too worried about it from over by where he’s also laughing and hanging all over his own friends.

The initial meetup was only semi-awkward — Mackie and Chace arriving together and Seb introducing them to Chris like a good friend does. Except it’s not “Friends, this is Chris, the love of my life…” or even “Friends, this is Chris, my sugar daddy.” It’s literally, “Guys, Chris. Chris, guys. Sweet, alright lemme show you where the drinks are,” because technically they’ve already seen each other at the volleyball tournament (even if they didn’t exactly  _meet_  meet) and Seb’s really just trying to smooth everything out and honestly it doesn’t matter after they’ve had so much to drink.

Grillo’s there, which means Seb makes his way over to talk to him and get more behind-the-scenes gold about Chris. He can’t remember a single story (even the ones that Grillo  _literally_ just got done telling), but he laughs his ass off regardless and everyone’s happy and it’s all a good time.

Chris is pouring another drink in the kitchen when Seb comes clambering up to him, a stupid smile stretched across his face.

“It’s—s’weird right? That our friends’re here together? S’like…weird but not weird, y’know?”

Chris grins at that — warm and sweet even as he staggers a little bit. “Never thought it’d happen, right?”

Seb leans himself over the counter, arms propping him up as he looks out at where Chace and Mackie are talking to a group of Chris’s volleyball people. “S’good. S’good.” He takes another drink. “Even if I’m—if I’m your _nephew_  or whatever…”

Chris’s eyes narrow as he looks off into the distance. “Nnnno… No I think I told ‘em you’re my friend’s kid.”

Now Seb’s eyes are narrowing too, both of them squinting at each other as they try to connect which lie goes to which group of people. “Oh  _yeah_. Mig—Miguel’s the one…” Seb slurs, “who’s the nephew.”

Chris knows what he’s trying to say. “Yeah you’re—you’re definitely the kid’s friend.”

“Friend’s kid.”

“Huh?”

“Nothin’.” He’s about to go get distracted somewhere else when he turns back around. “Oh, p.s.,” he tacks on, pointing a finger into Chris’s chest, “we’re running outta those crunchy things but I can’t uh—they’re too—I can’t reach ‘em in the cupboard.”

There’s a moment where Chris just stares at him, the fondest smile in the universe slowly dancing over his lips, and Seb wonders what part of that he’s just latched onto.

“What?”

“Did you just say p.s.?”

Seb blinks at him. “Yeah—p.s. Y’know… P.s. Post script.”

Chris’s smile widens as he nods. “Yeah I know what p.s. stands for, Seb.”

“M’alrighty sweet.” And with that, Sebastian makes his way back to where Mackie is now so obviously trying to put the moves on one of Chris’s friends. He can tell also because Chace rolls his eyes affectionately when Sebastian joins them.

The party continues. Stories are told. Snacks are had. Shots are taken. Sebastian accidentally trips over someone’s shoe and face-plants into the floor, but Grillo pulls him up with a “Jesus, kid…” and they both laugh their fucking asses off and everything is wonderful.

They’ve got the TV on so they can have all the other celebrations around the world flickering in the background. And Chris has an honest to God fanboy moment because Coldplay’s playing at a House of Blues somewhere, so Sebastian  _obviously_ has to make a big scene out of pretending to go and switch the channel, wherein everyone laughs again and everything is still wonderful.

And when the countdown starts — the big glittery ball dropping in Times Square — everyone stops what they’re doing and watches and (sloppily) counts down together.  They’ve all got their drinks and their significant others and there’s five seconds left when Seb realizes that Chris is halfway across the damn room but moving toward him just as his own feet are doing. And then it’s three seconds and two seconds and one second and then everyone’s hollering and laughing and cheering and Chris and Seb move in at the same time and their lips lock together — sloppy and silly but Sebastian feels it in his very core — feels how Chris wraps his arms around him and pulls him close — feels how those big hands settle low on his back and their kiss deepens and this is the best way to start the new year and suddenly everything creaks to a stop. Suddenly everything’s really quiet and then Chris’s eyes are opening and they’re both pulling back and everyone’s— Everyone’s staring at them.

Sebastian freezes. Feels every single pair of eyes in the room settling on him. Realizes how hindsight really is 20/20 and maybe if he had skipped those last couple shots he would’ve realized how monumentally  _stupid_ that just was. Because now everyone’s staring.

Grillo’s eyes are darting slowly between him and Chris, the sound of gears turning in his head audible from here.

Mackie’s just staring at Sebastian, his lips pressing into a thin line and gaze darkening.

And Chace…

Fuck. Chace.

Sebastian scans the faces for him, his heart bottoming out when he sees him — how he watches with sullen silence — how his gaze drops away when their eyes meet.

_Fuck._

There’s a crash then — glass shattering on the other side of the room as someone drops their cup, the person next to them regarding it with a long-suffering: “God, James. Really?”

People scatter to go help clean up, pretty much anything to busy themselves so they don’t have to deal with whatever the hell is going on.

The warmth disappears from Seb’s side as Chris moves toward them, but Sebastian’s too busy watching how Chace is ducking out and making his way toward the door.

“Chace,” he calls out, weaving against the flow of people flocking to the spill. “Chace!”

His friend reaches the door and Sebastian reaches a hand out, grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving.

Chace turns in his hold, eyes just below normal eye-contact level and it kills him and Seb just— “Hey I’m sorry. I’m sorry I—I should’ve told you.”

But Chace is shaking his head, eyes glossing over with the fakest smile Seb’s ever seen and he’s still not looking at him. “It’s fine.”

“No, I should’ve—”

“Don’t. Seb, it’s fine.”

“M’sorry-”

“—it’s fine.”

“Chace,” Seb almost whines, grabbing his other arm because it feels like a little part of him is shriveling up into dust inside of him with how passive Chace’s being but—

“Seb,” he says, finally looking up at him. “It’s fine. We’re good at keeping secrets, right?”

And it’s like someone knocks the air out of Seb’s lungs, the words that’ve been passed between them so many times over the years now tasting bitter and tainted.

“M’gonna head out,” Chace says quietly, gaze falling right back below normal.

Sebastian frowns. “You can’t—you can’t leave. You’re—”

“Gonna get a cab. It’s fine, Seb. Really.”

Sebastian looks him over, like he’ll be able to find something that can fix this immediately. But… “Will…you at least text me? When you get home?”

Chace nods, and there’s the slightest bit of truth in the trace of his smile. “Yeah.” And with that, he’s turning, Seb’s grasp on his arms falling away, “Happy New Year,” and then he’s gone and the door is shutting.

Sebastian stands there.

There’re both six trillion things and nothing buzzing through his head.

The commotion from the party behind him filters back in.

If he were in the right headspace, he’d see the way Chris is watching him from across the room, brows furrowed.

He’d see how Mackie’s gone to do his own thing, probably to avoid starting drama between the two of them after all that’s already happened.

He’d see how the glass on the far side of the room is getting picked up and brushed into the garbage can but the stain is still going to be in the carpet a long time from now.

He’d make some sort of sappy comparison between that and what just happened, but he’s  _not_  in the right headspace. So he doesn’t notice any of it at all.

 

—————

 

When Mackie leaves, he lets Sebastian apologize. He listens to it all and isn’t mean about it. It’s surprising but somehow it doesn’t make Seb feel any better than if Mackie would’ve told him off.

Chace texts him that he’s home but then that’s it. It’s what’s expected.

And when Sebastian climbs into bed, his head resting heavily on Chris’s chest, Chris slowly runs his hand through his hair and says, without judgement: “How long were you guys together?”

And it kind of opens up this sad little hole in Sebastian’s chest, because he never even said anything about being with Chace. But Chris is smart and that scene that happened a few hours ago pretty much speaks for itself, so he tells him.

Tells him about how they’ve been best friends for damn near forever. Tells him how admiration as a kid turned into admiration as a teenager. Tells him that they tried dating — being exclusive and “each other’s” and serious — but serious was too serious and it was good for a little bit but then it got weird. Tells him how they decided that they’re better at being friends — vowed to keep it that way, even if they ended up in each other’s beds now and then. Tells him how Seb’s not in love with him but he’s so important to him that he hurts whenever Chace hurts.

And Chris listens. Doesn’t pass any judgement. Must finally realize the severity of what happened tonight.

“You guys’ll be okay,” he reassures.

Seb doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear falls from the tip of his nose and dampens Chris’s shirt. “What if this makes him not wanna be my friend anymore?”

And Chris wraps his other arm around him and he leaves a kiss on his forehead and he says: “Seb…if you guys really mean that much to each other, it won’t.”

They lay together for a while, just  _being_.

Chris holds him and Sebastian calms bit by bit. And when enough time has passed, Seb leans up and kisses his cheek. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” Chris answers, turning and meeting him halfway for another. “It’s gonna be a good one. Don’t worry.”

Sebastian settles back against his chest, eyes closing and breath evening out. He believes him. “I love you.”

The tears stop falling.

“I love you too, Seb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter left! thank you all for reading :)


	17. Chapter 17

January comes and goes, and Seb and Chace sit down and have a heart to heart about Chris — a heart to heart that’s a little awkward at times and pulls a few tears but nothing extraordinary because they’ve had each other’s back through worse than this.

Sebastian tells him it’s serious. Tells him he’s sorry. And Chace just frowns at him and wails a punch to his shoulder with a laughing: “Don’t be sorry, you fucking idiot,” and Sebastian is surprised, but really he’s not at all.

They’re okay. They’re better than okay. They’re “them” the way “they” were probably supposed to be right from the very beginning.

February comes and goes.

March comes and goes.

April comes and by now all of Chris’s close friends know about them too. Sebastian isn’t there for any of the grand reveals, but he trusts that Chris does a stellar job with it because he’s Chris, and honestly doing something half-assed doesn’t seem to be in his capacity.

The next time Seb sees Grillo, he fears the awkward “oh, you’re with Chris and that’s pretty weird” that he’s come to fear when talking to any of Chris’s friends now. But there’s only a slight moment of awkwardness — a few seconds of uncomfortable eye contact where Grillo’s probably trying to get everything in his head sorted out and accepted — and then they’re right back to lovingly making fun of Chris when he’s out of earshot. Sebastian decides that he likes Grillo even more than before.

April ends and Sebastian is antsy and Chris is stressed because the only person in their social circle who still doesn’t know about them is Mrs. Evans.

And Seb gets it. Fuck, if he still talked to his mother, he’d probably be pissing his pants with how anxious he’d be to try and tell her. But the difference between his mom and Mrs. Evans is way way  _way_ crazy, and he knows it’s not in his place to get impatient (especially with how nervous he guesses he is too), but Seb’s kind of chomping at the bit here.

—————

May begins. Graduation is in a couple of weeks. It hasn’t fully sunken in that soon he’ll finally be out of school forever.

Seb tags along to the weekly errands that Chris usually does alone — bank, grocery store, art supplies depot — he only starts complaining when he realizes where their next stop has taken them.

“You go to a car dealership as a weekly errand…?” he deadpans, glancing around at all the shiny new cars that’re probably super unimpressive to  _some_ people here.

But Chris just smiles. “Nope.”

And that’s all he says. All vague and shit.

 _What the hell are we doing here then?_ Seb wants to fire back but doesn’t, because contrary to popular belief, he  _is_ trying to behave today.

Their steps lead them into the middle of the room, cars flanking them in every direction, and that’s when Chris lets out a deep breath and puts his hands in his pockets, offering a nonchalant: “What looks good?”

_…what?_

Sebastian’s frown and blank stare linger for a moment. Confusion. Slight irritation. Then: “Are you kidding me?”

Chris doesn’t even look at him. “Hm?”

And Sebastian has to smack his arm a little bit at the ridiculousness of it all. “Don’t buy me a fuckin’ car.”

Chris’s look of nonchalance slowly simmers into something amused, a chuckle escaping as he glances down at him. “Who the hell said anything about buying you a car?” He slips into a walk toward one of the cheaper ones to their left. “You need to set your sights on a goal so you know what you’re aiming for when you get a job.”

Sebastian follows, a little embarrassed by the entitlement of his assumption. He smooths it over with a casual: “Set my sights, huh?” and then he’s right back to his mischievous self, pointing across the room. “Aiming for that shit.”

Chris follows his indication, eyes landing on the shiny purple paint of the prized Lamborghini in the back of the room. He laughs.

Seb perks up at the joke well-done.

“And here I thought you’d wait until we got home to be a little shit.”

It’s enough to pull a satisfied grin to Sebastian’s lips. “Clearly you don’t know me at all.”

—————

One week until graduation.

Chace and Mackie are going out of their minds with excitement.

Sebastian gets  _ten_ fucking tickets to give to people to attend the ceremony. He laughs and brushes it off and just gives them to Chris because he doesn’t want to think about the people who should be there but won’t be.

Chris watches as he walks away, waving it off before changing the subject completely.

—————

Seb kinda thought the excitement about the butt plug would wear off at least a little after a while, but somehow it’s kept that same level of thrill as it did when Chris first gave it to him half a year ago.

They figure out new ways to play with it, like having Seb use it out in increasingly public places.

But sometimes, it’s just as good to go back to the basics.

Then again, sometimes things don’t work out as well as they plan.

Hence this scene right here, where Sebastian hands the remote to Chris before bounding off to the kitchen to start on dinner, Chris slipping said remote into his back pocket as he watches him disappear down the hallway.

Since it’s Sebastian’s turn to make dinner (a rare occurrence), he decides that he’s going to make it the starchiest, cheesiest, most unhealthy thing Chris has ever had the opportunity to digest. (And no, he’s not just trying to get revenge for all those weird quinoa-whatever things Chris has made him eat in the past. …okay. Okay yes. That’s exactly what this is.)

He settles for a cheesy potato casserole, starting the dish by peeling (way too many) potatoes into a bowl and digging around in the refrigerator to try and find the cheese they’d picked up during errand day.

The cheese is added, as well as some other creamy and otherwise artery-clogging good stuff, and Sebastian’s just pulling the glass jug of milk out of the fridge and toward the counter when he feels like he’s being struck by lightning — a shock of white-hot pleasure sizzling up his spine as the plug roars to life inside of him, a startlingly weird struggle of a shriek/groan escaping him as his knees buckle and he collapses onto the ground from the shock of it.

The milk jug crashes next to him and his eyes squeeze shut but most of all the vibration cuts out and there’s the heavy footsteps of Chris sprinting down the hallway at a desperate speed – “Fuck!” his voice carrying even before he collapses down next to Seb on the floor too. “Fuck oh my God I forgot I had it and I sat on it—are you okay?”

It’s all cluttered together in a mass of worry but Sebastian’s still trying to grasp the fact that Chris  _did_ in fact just ass-dial his butt plug.

This is a story to pass down through the generations.

“Seb!”

Oh. Sebastian lets out a breath, the heat that washed over him so quickly still making his knees weak. “The range on that thing…” he whispers frailly, eyes still closed, “…is incredible…”

That shuts Chris up fast, and he’s probably got one of those looks on his face — those  _this fucking kid_  looks. But he helps him up anyway, just in time to avoid the creeping flow of milk beside him.

That’s two full containers that the plug has cost them now. First the orange juice, and now this.

Chris kneels by the spill, paper towels already at work. And when Sebastian sniffles a little, the shock of pleasure having brought tears to his eyes, he can already see the amusement curling across Chris’s lips.

“Don’t say it,” he warns.

But: “It’s okay, Seb—”

“Chris—”

“—no use crying over spilled milk.”

“God damn it.”

—————

“That was definitely at least an ‘8’,” Sebastian notes later that night. Which means he’s practically almost at setting ’10’, which means he’s becoming masterful at this whole butt plug thing now.

“You collapsed,” Chris reminds him subtly from behind his newspaper.

Sebastian just shoots him a look and continues congratulating himself.

Minor details.

—————

When Chris says “Let’s go for a walk…”, this gross little ball of nerves opens up inside Seb’s stomach, because he feels like “Let’s go for a walk” is on par with “We need to talk” and both of those things have never done him much good in the past.

So technically, he feels pretty justified in asking “Is bad shit happening?” before agreeing to anything whatsoever.

This, of course, prompts Chris to frown and shake his head and say “No. But I can find something bad if you’re really craving some drama.”

And that’s more or less how Sebastian finds himself walking down the trail in the forest behind Chris’s flat for the first time ever, his shoes crunching against the dirt/twigs/nature-stuff beneath them as they make their way further and further in.

“Are you taking me here to kill me?” Sebastian asks with a half-hearted laugh.

Chris shoots him a raised eyebrow, voice completely serious. “Who told you?”

And it’s enough to calm Seb’s nerves a little bit, because if Chris is in a good enough mood to be a smart-ass, things can’t be too bad.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

Aaaaand there it is. That’s why they’re here.

Seb’s stomach drops a little bit. “You talked to her about us.”

“I did.”

“And?”

Chris keeps his attention forward, drawing the tension out like he seems to unintentionally do far too frequently. Then, right as the need to egg him on surfaces, he says: “Apparently she knew before.” Then tacks on: “Like…a few months ago.”

Seb stops, his face blanching and feet stuck to the ground. “ _What_?”

Chris eases to a stop as well. “Yeah…”

It offers absolutely zero clarification, but everything is already tying together frantically in Sebastian’s mind anyway. She knew. She  _knew_ before the last half a dozen dinners together. She knew before going to the aquarium. “So…” the words creep past his lips as they come to him — slow and pensive and pieced together, “…is that why…she kept inviting me to things with you guys?”

Chris has apparently worked through this whole thing already, because he doesn’t seem as worked up as he probably should be. But that doesn’t stop his reply from being just as choppy and borderline awkward.

“Actually…” he’s so very careful, “she kind of thought you needed someone.” Pause. “Like…a mother figure…or something…” Pause. “I guess.” He waits for some sort of reaction, but Seb’s too busy wrapping his mind around this new piece of information, so he tacks on a quick: “Or at least that’s what she told me.”

Sebastian lets that sink in, his gaze glossing over a little as he does so.

Because…a mother figure.

His heart clenches in his chest — something like affection — something like appreciation — something a whole hell of a lot like when he had told her about his own mother that night after dinner, when she had wrapped her arms around him and tears fell but somehow it was okay because she was  _making sure_ things were okay.

Sebastian swallows, eyes glossing over for an entirely different reason now.

Chris must notice because he intervenes with a nudge and a firm: “Technically I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. So pretend I didn’t.”

It’s enough to jog Sebastian from his impromptu trip down another emotion-fueled path — catches him and tugs him back right before the tears can fall.

He wants to say something helpful. Affirmative. But when the gentle breeze washes over him, all that comes out is: “That’s—… I really like your mom.”

It brings a smile to Chris’s face, the worry in his expression settling into fondness. “I like my mom too.”

He takes a step then, the earth crunching softly beneath their feet as Sebastian pushes to catch up. Sunshine filters in through the tops of the trees like rain, touching down against their skin in patches of light that warms them from the inside out as they walk.

Sebastian keeps his chin up, head tilted toward the sky where the leaves part and the light shimmers through.

“Okay but seriously,” Chris says what feels like a lifetime later, “don’t tell her I told you.” The very real concern lacing his tone only makes it that much easier to love him. “She doesn’t want to come off as overbearing or anything.”

Sebastian shoots a teasing grin his way, the corners of his mouth curling mischievously as they make their way down towards an opening in the forest. “So…no calling her ‘Mama Evans’ then, huh?”

Chris smiles, amusement clear as they reach the clearing. “I would consider it a personal favor if you didn’t.”

Sunshine pours over them, and Sebastian’s pretty sure this is what one might call a spiritual experience. “You got it, boss.”

——————

Graduation day.

The day he is officially released from the shackles of subjective project scoring and eccentric artist-profs.

The day he walks across the stage with Chace and Mackie and never has to step foot on campus ever again.

Sebastian is positively glowing in his alphabetically-assigned seat, (which just so happens to be next to Mackie because believe it or not, the Graphic Design department isn’t exactly overflowing with takers).

Mackie talks to him throughout the whole thing, deciding that party plans are more important than the stale half-hour commencement speech that the university president has been digging up year after year. And it’s not that Seb isn’t listening — shit, he’s just as eager as anyone to get sloppy drunk after this — it’s just that he keeps finding himself staring up into the bleachers, eyes catching on the proud little grin that’s plastered all across Chris’s face as he actually pays attention to how the president trudges his way through the speech’s half-way point. It’s kind of endearing. In a dumb way.

Sebastian scans faces to find Chace’s and Mackie’s parents next, the latter looking like they want to die of boredom just as much as the students who are lined up in seats on the auditorium floor. Seb suppresses a chuckle. It’s not exactly rocket science to figure out who their child is.

When they fucking  _finally_  start calling names, Sebastian is renewed with excited energy, his leg bouncing as the rows of students in front of him disappear one by one. When Chace is called, he walks across the stage and does this stupid little fist bump that makes Seb chuckle to himself, his chest glowing with warmth as he watches his friend scale down the steps and then address him and Mackie with a ridiculous snap/point/wink thing before sitting.

Mackie doesn’t try to stifle his laugh even a little bit, too high on the natural buzz of leaving the university forever to care.

It doesn’t take much time for their row to be called to line up next to the stage, the announcer nearing the M names (and therefore the S names) with an impressive speed.

Sebastian thrums his fingers against the side of his thighs as they near the steps up to the stage, slight anxiety starting to take hold of him for no good reason. His gaze flicks up to where Chris is sitting — where Chris is  _already_ looking at him, nodding slowly and calmly and lifting his hands up a little bit to simulate taking a big breath.

Sebastian does so — fills his lungs with enough air to feel it and holds it — closes his eyes for a second and just  _is_ — lets his breath out slowly and feels the worst of the creeping anxiety ebb away with it.

Chris is smiling when he looks back up at him.

“Anthony Mackie.”

Sebastian watches as Mackie saunters his way across the stage in only the way _he_  can, a proud “THAT’S RIGHT, BABY!” breaking through the otherwise silent room from none other than his mother.

There’s a smattering of laughter from the outburst, Mackie pointing his diploma up toward where she’s sitting with an accomplished grin.

Sebastian can’t help but smile too, positive energy flowing and gaze bouncing over to where Chace is shaking his head with a chuckle and—

“Sebastian Stan.”

“WOO!” It’s both Mackie  _and_ Chace, laughter erupting and the regal sanctity of the ceremony going up for grabs from that moment on, but Sebastian doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s walking across the stage, taking the diploma in one hand and shaking the president’s hand with the other and  _holy shit_ he actually got through college.

Mackie is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs — expressly disregarding the aisle-attendant’s instructions to move on and take his seat. He slings his arm around Seb’s shoulder when they meet, the black fabric of their graduation gowns crumpling up in the process. And when Sebastian glances up to the bleachers, he’s not entirely ready for it. Because Chris is fucking  _beaming_ with the biggest, proudest, most ridiculous smile ever.

He doesn’t even remember the rest of the ceremony too much. But it doesn’t matter, because what’s important is that he’s done. He  _did_ this. And so did Chace and Mackie.

They all crowd around each other once the procession files out and they’re released into the general public outside the auditorium, their trio reformed as they’re reunited once again with Chace.

“Holy shit, man,” Chace laughs, an arm balancing on each of their shoulders to complete their excited little circle. “You do realize that your mom pretty much dismantled the entire ceremony right?”

Mackie raises his hands, eyebrows following suit, “The hell you expect? You should know my mama by now.”

Chace laughs, “True.”

“ _Technically_  you helped the ‘dismantlement’ just as much, dude,” Seb adds, addressing Chace with a knowing look.

“Hey, whoelse would cheer for your sorry ass? You should be thanking us.”

Sebastian smiles, Mackie nodding in agreement as Chace continues to express just how very  _not_ popular Seb is in the Graphic Design department. It’s then that the bustling crowd parts for a moment, the sharp cut of a very familiar suit catching Seb’s eye from across the way.

Sebastian tunes back in right around the time that Chace starts rehashing the night that Seb threw up on that one girl’s houseplant, his tone dismissive but joking. “Yeah yeah yeah. Okay, I got it. You guys are the only ones who like me.”

“ _Sometimes_ like you,” Mackie amends.

And Sebastian just rolls his eyes, used enough to the teasing to get a chuckle out of it. “Awesome. Well in that case, I’ll catch you guys later. Don’t wanna bring your coolness factor any lower than it already desperately is.”

He ducks out between their laughter, weaving his way through the masses of excited parents trying to get their graduates to take acceptable family photos.

When he reaches where Chris is waiting patiently on the side, he’s already matching the older man’s enthusiastic grin.

“Didn’t mean to pull you away,” he says, eyes settling happily over him.

But Sebastian just shakes his head. “No worries. I see them too much anyway.”

Chris hums a chuckle at that, something like restraint fizzling away as he swoops forward, wrapping his arms around Sebastian without further warning.

Seb melts into it, his eyes fluttering shut as he snakes his arms around Chris’s middle and lets his head rest on his chest.

He mumbles against the top of Seb’s head, and if Seb wasn’t listening, he would’ve missed the raw emotion that tinges each word. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

But he  _is_  listening. And he feels it in his very core. And for a moment, all he really wants to do is stand here and melt in Chris’s arms and feel this forever — feel what he hasn’t really felt for a long time now.

“Thanks for…” he can’t really get it out, speaking directly into Chris’s suit jacket. “For uh…you know…payi—”

“Don’t mention it,” Chris interrupts him calmly before drawing back from the hug. His calm, content smile hasn’t faltered even a little bit. “You worked hard for this. Worked through a lot of stuff to get where you are now. You should be extremely proud of yourself.”

And for once, Sebastian actually listens. Actually takes it to heart. “Thanks.”

For a moment, they just stand there, the rest of the room moving around them with a hurried bustle as their gaze lingers on.

There’s a shrill cry from a baby a few groups of people away, and it pulls both of them back to the event at hand.

“Do you want me to stay and force you into uncomfortable post-graduation photos?” Chris smirks.

And Sebastian winces from the very thought. “Please no.”

“I could have you pose awkwardly in front of the podium with your classmates.”

“I’d probably die.”

“Drastic.”

“I’ll take you down with me.”

“Alright fine, no pictures.” Chris smiles, following as Sebastian leads them out towards the parking lot to go home. “But I’m still proud of you.”

—————

Sebastian doesn’t get tired of hearing that.

No matter how many times Chris tells him.

—————

“Call me if you get gross and I’ll come pick you guys up,” is what he says when Seb informs him of the night’s plans to get shitfaced in celebration, to which Sebastian frowns indignantly.

“We won’t get gross.”

“I’ve seen you guys drink.”

“We won’t get gross,” he assures.

It’s half past two in the morning when his fingers smudge up against the buttons to text Chris, his vision blurring as a sloppy grin finds its way across his lips.

**were g ros**

—————

Waking up in the living room of the flat is not anything out of the ordinary.

Waking up in the living room of the flat with Mackie’s face mere inches from his own is a little less ordinary.

“Jesus…” he groans, rolling over and sitting up to see that they’ve all got pillows, blankets, and a glass of water next to them, like Chris fucking  _knew_ they were going to get stupid so he set everything up beforehand to make it easier on himself.

He also notices that their trio is missing one body. One very obvious body.

The light aroma of pancakes wafts from the kitchen as Sebastian steps into it, a hand running through his hair and eyes opening all the way when he realizes that Chris isn’t alone.

“Oh.”

“Hey,” Chace says with a frail smile from the kitchen table, half a glass of orange juice sitting in front of him as he leans against the edge of the table.

“Morning,” Chris adds on, flourishing a spatula in his direction as Sebastian tries to put two and two together.

“Uh…what’s…?”

“I’m apparently a very loud puker,” Chace mentions as some sort of explanation, fixing Seb with a look, “But not loud enough for  _some_ people who’re sleeping a room away to hear.”

Sebastian blinks.

…what?

“I rescued him from dying,” Chris elaborates, then turns toward Chace to say offhandedly: “You have to explain things very slowly to him in the morn—wait, what am I saying? I’m sure you know that  _way_ better than me.”

Chace nods with an amused but still very frail smile. “He’s a zombie.”

“M’standing right here,” Sebastian deadpans, but really he’s still kind of stuck on the fact that the two of them are just sitting here. Chilling. Getting along and everything. 

Is this a dream?

“Anyway, no one’s dead and breakfast will be ready in a few if you want to wake the last newly-graduate up.” Chris is waving his spatula around again, and Seb fears he’ll poke someone’s eye out. “Unless he’s one of those cranky-hungover people.”

“Oh, he’s a real dick,” Chace affirms from the table, earning a chuckle from Chris.

“Well in _that_ case, let him sleep. I probably didn’t make enough anyway.”

Sebastian stays stuck in his place for a moment, still making mental conclusions and whatnot in his head, but then pulls from his spot and joins Chace at the table with a tired blink.

“You two are so buddy-buddy,” he drones, pouring syrup over the truly disgusting amount of pancakes piled high on his plate.

“I’ve already told him all your deep dark secrets,” Chace mentions with a nonchalant bite.

Sebastian looks at him. Blinks. Looks over to Chris. Blinks.

Chris just shrugs. “Now you know how I feel with Grillo.”

Chace probably doesn’t get that joke, but Sebastian does.

Incredible.

——————

A few notable things occur within the span of the first week after graduation.

One: Seb, Chris, and Mrs. Evans go to the zoo and get rained on and spend a lot of the time in the little underwater part because it’s inside. Sebastian glues himself to the seahorse tank, hands pressed up against the glass like a kid even as he sees the amused smirk in Chris’s reflection coming up behind him.

“We should get seahorses.”

“No, Seb.”

Two: After what seems like an eternity of suffering under flaking paint and dislodged floorboards, Sebastian is free from the lingering grasp of his piece of shit apartment. They close it out together, Chris tagging along to make sure that Seb isn’t charged for any of the truly unacceptable damage that was already there when he had first moved in.

It’s like a weight being lifted from his shoulders. And not just because he’s confident enough in his and Chris’s relationship to get rid of that “just in case” place to stay.

Before he leaves, he takes a second…allows himself one last look…and then shuts the door and never comes back.

Three: Chris picks Seb up from a dentist appointment (that he pretty much forces him to go to because “How are you supposed to eat if all your teeth fall out?” “Yeah okay,  _dad_.”) But when they get back to the flat, there’s a car already in the driveway.

“Who’s here?” Sebastian asks, craning his neck to see.

Chris just shrugs unhelpfully, parking in the street. “I don’t know. Why don’t you check.”

He follows him as Seb hops out, making his way over to the driver-side window and glancing in.

Sebastian frowns, foul play afoot. “There’s no one inside.”

“Really? That’s weird.” Seb turns to offer his thoughts, but before he can even get one word out, Chris is pulling a set of keys out of his pocket — “Probably because you need these to get in, right?” — and throwing them at him.

Sebastian catches the keys without a word, brows beginning to furrow in confusion as he stares at Chris.

“Kinda figured you were kidding about the Lambo,” the older man says, “But you’re gonna need something to get around in until you make enough money to buy your own, right? And this one’s not that bad. Nice and compact. Good mileage—”

“Are you  _fucking kidding me_?”

“Nope, it’s about twenty five miles to the gallon.”

But Sebastian’s not laughing. Can’t even wrap his mind around the fact that… “What…the  _fuck_ …”

It’s not an expensive car by any means, but it’s still a fucking car _._

A  _car._

Chris gives him a few moments to cope, waiting quietly as Seb glances between him and the shiny black paint of the four-door beside them — first slowly, then almost franticly.

“Th—this…” he tries, the keys heavy in his hand. “You’re giving me— …this is…”

“Yours,” Chris finishes for him, smile almost sheepish. “ _Or_  I can pull some strings and return it if you want me to. No pressure. I don’t want you to feel weird about it.”

The laugh that comes tumbling out of Seb’s mouth is almost hysterical. “S-seriously? How am I supposed to not feel weird about the fact that you bought me a fucking car?”

Chris nods. “Completely understandable. As I said, I can return it in a heartbeat. It’s all up to you — whenever you decide.”

Sebastian blinks. He doesn’t know a whole lot about purchasing vehicles, but he at least knows that you don’t usually just give back a car if you don’t want it.

“Let me guess. You designed some sort of ridiculous resort or something for the car dealer?”

Chris grins. “Something like that.”

Of course. “You’re ridiculous.”

——————

He keeps the car.

Not because he wants to (okay he wants to a little bit), but because it means he’s now no longer an inconvenience to people by asking them for rides to literally everywhere.

——————

Mustering up the courage to talk to those people at the conference in California pays off, because Sebastian musters up  _more_ courage and calls that one woman who was super interested in his stuff and he’s got a Skype-interview set up in no time.

Chris over-prepares the living room for the event — deep-cleaning every surface and rearranging everything and hanging up an impressive piece of artwork behind where Sebastian will be sitting during the call. Seb repeatedly tells him to knock it off — that he’s overcompensating — but Chris just swoops down to plant a kiss on his forehead before continuing to make his way around him with a feather-duster.

The job — Seb totally fucking annihilates the interview by the way, which is why we’re skipping over that part — is strictly online. The woman fields requests from clients and then sends them out to her graphic designers (ie. Seb) working out of different parts of the country. He then has a certain amount of time to contact the client for further discussion if need be, complete the commission, and then send it to the client.

It’s a pretty fucking cushy job. He can do it from literally anywhere as long as he’s got his laptop. Sometimes “everywhere” means at the coffee shop. Sometimes “everywhere” means at Chace’s while Chace fills out applications for his own job. Sometimes “everywhere” is at the desk in the den that Chris specifically brings in for him. That’s his favorite place to do it — the atmosphere calm but positive as he designs away and Chris sweeps pencil over paper across the room.

Every once in a while, Seb will take a break — make a real big obvious show out of it by stretching his arms above his head and letting out a ridiculous groan. That’s when Chris finishes what he’s doing at the moment and then slides his chair out from under the desk, waiting patiently for Seb to come over and settle into his lap before wheeling the chair back under and returning to his work.

Seb still gets to hold the ruler every once in a while, and sometimes, he feels like he’s right back at the beginning — right back at that time where things where neither here nor there with them, but whatever they had together was enough to make Seb’s heart flutter in his chest.

It still flutters. But the difference is,  _now_ he can tilt his head over and press his lips to Chris’s cheek or the corner of his mouth and quietly mumble: “Love you.”

The difference is,  _now_ there’s no here-nor-there. It’s just them. Together. On the same page. And Sebastian’s sure it’s one of the best feelings in the entire fucking world.

—————

His first right-out-of-college job is not immensely incredible. It’s just that. A right-out-of-college-job. It doesn’t pay  _super_ well, but Sebastian’s just taking it a day at a time and not getting discouraged because at least he has a job, right? And it  _does_ pay enough for him to start buying his own things. Like clothes. And dinner. And…

“What’s this?”

Sebastian blinks, the long thin box wrapped in tissue paper still sitting in his outstretched hands. “A gift.”

Chris’s brow furrows as he stares down at it and then back up at him. “A gift? For what?”

“Just because.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything…”

But Sebastian just smiles, pride welling up in his chest as he explains himself. “How long have you been paying for shit for me?” He doesn’t let him answer. “Fucking long. And now I finally have money from my job. So I wanna give you something, alright?”

His explanation doesn’t seem to smooth over Chris’s bashfulness, but the older man must just accept his reasoning, because he slowly reaches out and takes the gift from Seb’s hand, unwrapping it with such caution that he must think it’s a trick or something.

But when the last of the tissue paper falls to the ground and he pulls open the top of the thin cardboard box, the stupid smile that Seb is expecting never comes. Instead, it’s sweet — his lips quirking up with fondness.

“Are you serious?” he grins.

And Sebastian just kind of rolls back onto his heels and smiles too. “Believe it or not.” Because if you told him a year ago that he was gonna drop money on tickets to go see Coldplay, he would’ve clocked you one.

And Chris is 100% aware of this fact, which is why that stupid smile is starting to bubble forward now. “You don’t have to do this—”

“The seats aren’t that great because I’m not exactly making bank,” Seb starts, “but it’s the fact that we’ll be there that counts, right?”

Chris shakes his head like he can’t believe the turn of events that just unfolded, “Absolutely,” and then sets the tickets down on the side of the couch so he can scoop Sebastian up into the tightest hug ever. “Thanks, Seb.”

Sebastian lets himself be swept away, his chest bubbling with an insane amount of happy vibes. “No problem.” And when enough time has passed but it’s clear that Chris is still blown away, he mutters offhandedly: “I also bought two seahorses.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

(He’ll wait a couple more days before transferring their tank from the guest bedroom into the den.)

—————

Clients come and go for both of them.

They slave over their work at the same time.

And one night — way later than they usually stay up — Chris looks up from his light table and says: “What if you did the designs for the clients I’m working for?”

And Sebastian says: “Huh?”

And Chris says: “We could be a team.”

And Sebastian says: “…huh?”

And they go to sleep and forget about it in the morning until the thought must cross Chris’s mind again.

Turns out, people are more than eager to have their business not only physically built, but also advertised and designed for them — right down to their business cards — all at the same time.

Turns out, Sebastian is thrust into dealing with the big dogs a lot sooner than most college grads, but then again, most college grads aren’t exclusive with a highly-successful architect. And was he not just pretending to be said architect’s assistant not too long ago anyway?

Turns out, the two of them butt heads sometimes over how their ideas coincide with each other, but the job gets done and the customers are happy and  _holy fucking shit_ is Sebastian definitely making bank now.

Turns out, contrary to his assumptions over this entire time, Seb’s just about the same amount of happy with his life with Chris as he was without money. And…okay, he doesn’t wanna get all stupid and sappy about it, but there’s some sort of overlying “money doesn’t bring you happiness… _love_  brings you happiness” bullshit going on and he thinks he’s pretty okay with that, even if the corniness of it makes him want to puke.

He brings the seahorses into the den and watches them curl their tails around each other while he works and there’s something about it that gives him closure. Closure for  _what_ , he’s not exactly sure, but he feels it in his bones and in his whole body and it feels fucking good.

Good enough to steal glances across the room at Chris — his face illuminated gloriously by the light table.

Good enough to remain well-behaved enough not to mention the fact that he gave Chris the remote to the butt plug two goddamn hours ago and he’s yet to do anything about it.

Good enough to perk up when he hears him speak, voice low as he keeps his back to him, “You’ve been very patient,” and then turns in his chair to fix Seb with a knowing smirk. “You ready, baby boy?”

And Sebastian just grins, his gaze darkening as the corners of his mouth curl into something truly devious.

“Yes, daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who supported this fucking ridiculous thing. i adore you and your thoughts and kind words were what kept me going when motivation ran dry. bless you all ♡

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) come chat me up on [tumblr](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422202) by [jedipool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedipool/pseuds/jedipool)
  * [Lucky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535541) by [catsdoppelganger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsdoppelganger/pseuds/catsdoppelganger)




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